The General and The Assassin
by PruCanFangirlPotter
Summary: In the midst of a war, Matthew Williams, the assassin, has been assigned a mission to kill an opposing general by the name of Gilbert Beilschmidt. But what will happen when Matthew is captured by said general? Who knows? Matthew just hopes he'll make it out alive. PruCan, and some mentions of FrUk, GerIta, Spamano, and AusHun.
1. Chapter 1

**Uh, hi! This is my first fanfic ever, and really my first attempt to write a story of any kind, so I apologise if it sucks. Please no flames! Also, I knw this chapter is really short, but I really wanted it to end where it did, so that's where it ended. Hope you guys like it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, even though that would be the awesomest thing EVER. :D**

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The night was black, and silent but for the muffled booms and bangs of explosions and gunshots that could be heard far off in the distance as Matthew crouched, hidden by the tall, dry grass surrounding him. His completely black outfit, designed for stealth, had some mud on it, and the submachine gun in his arms was getting rather cumbersome, but he paid them no heed.

He had a mission to complete.

A little ways off in the distance stood a large collection of black, obviously military tents, one of them a bit bigger than the others. It was one of the enemy's camps, and in the largest tent lay General Gilbert Beilschmidt. His target.

Beilschmidt was rumored to be the one of the best at what he did, his strategies were nearly unbeatable, his armies almost always came out victorious. He was good. Really good. He was a dangerous man to be enemies with, and that was why he had to be taken out.

There were a few lights lit in the encampment, signaling that a few people were still awake, but Matthew wasn't worried. He was the master of invisibility. He'd get in, do the job he'd come to do, and slip out quietly into the eerie night. No one would ever notice him.

At least, that was the plan.

Matthew hid his bulky submachine gun in a bush on the edge of the woods a short distance from the encampment, taking care to make sure no one would see it or accidentally stumble upon it. He couldn't take it any further. This mission required finesse, not brute strength. That was why he had been chosen for this mission and not his brother Alfred.

He took out his dagger and his pistol fitted with a silencer. They were all he needed for this mission. One to carry out the mission and one just in case. All he had to do was get into Beilschmidt's tent, slit his throat or something of the like, and the enemy will have suffered a major loss, Matthew's side on it's way to winning the war.

Matthew slowly inched closer to the camp, making sure to stay low, under the cover of the tall grass. He may have been nearly invisible, but not completely, and if he got caught because someone had seen a random head popping out of the grass, the only thing to blame would be his own stupidity. Recklessness was not his thing, that was more Alfred's job.

After a long while of slowly inching, Matthew had finally made it to the edge of the encampment. He was now hidden behind one of the tents on the edge of the camp, less than fifty feet away from General Beilschmidt's tent. He weaved through the maze of tents separating him from from his target quickly, quietly, through the shadows until he stood directly in front of Beilschmidt's tent.

He stood there, in a shadow, for a second, gathering his wits, and took a deep breath. He had gotten this far, there was no turning back now. This was just another job. No reason to be nervous, he'd done this many times before.

Having assessed that there was no one awake in the tent, Matthew silently, tentatively pushed back the flap of the tent acting as a door, and went in. The inside of the tent was nearly pitch black, and he had to stop for a second to let his eyes adjust.

When he could see, he carefully crept across the tent towards the human-sized lump buried under a pile of blankets on the bed in the far corner. But even as he took out his dagger, he sensed something not right. Something was... off. He had to do this fast, before something bad happened. He moved closer to the bed, until he was standing right beside it. This was bad. He could feel it in every beat of his heart, every step he took. Heart pounding, he moved even closer and reached out his arm-

And felt the sharp, unforgivingly cold steel of a knife press against his throat.

"Don't move." breathed a low, dangerous voice from behind him.

* * *

**So yeah, that's that I guess. Was that a decent cliffhanger? It seemed much better when I was plotting it out in my head. Review please~! And I'm terribly sorry it's so short, I'll try to make the chapters longer in the future. Hopefully I'll have the next chapter up by like next week. :D **

**Bye, mein lieblings! :D**

**~Potter-chan**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi guys! I'm back! :D So this chapter's not as long as I'd like it to be, but whatever. It has everything in it that needed to be in it. Hope you guys like it! And thanks so much to everyone who reviewed and favorited and followed and even just took the time to read it! :D **

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_...And felt the sharp, unforgivingly cold steel of a knife press against his throat._

_"Don't move." breathed a low, dangerous voice from behind him._

Oh, shit.

Matthew froze, his heart in his throat. His breath hitched.

No. No, no,no. How had this happened? He was invisible to practically everyone, whether he was trying to be or not, although most of the time it fell under the category of 'not'. So then how could this person have seen him? And when he was actually trying to be invisible, no less. It wasn't possible. He must be dreaming or something. This couldn't be real. This couldn't be happening. He-

His train of thought was suddenly interrupted as the cold barrel of a gun was rested against his back in addition to the blade at his throat. The frigidness of it went straight through his shirt and jacket and sent shivers up his spine.

"Now drop the knife." Ordered the voice.

Wishing with all his might that he wasn't about to do it, but too terrified to do anything but comply, his fingers went limp and the dagger fell to the ground with a soft _thump._ Out of the corner of his eye he saw a black combat boot-clad foot kick it backwards, out of his reach.

Matthew felt the pressure of the gun at his back disappear, and then saw a pale hand reach into his coat pocket and pull out his pistol. A second later the gun came back to rest on his spine.

Matthew was now weaponless. Helpless. He was going to die. Here. Alone. He was never going to see Alfred or Francis or Arthur again...

No! He had to escape. He couldn't die here. He _wouldn't._

He had to distract him. "W-who are you?"

"Who am I? You come bursting into my tent in the middle of the night and you have the audacity to ask who I am? Kesesese. I am-"

The voice was cut off as Matthew suddenly slammed his elbow backwards into the stomach of his captor with all his strength, at the same time wrenching the arm containing the knife away from his neck. The voice grunted in surprise, the gun falling away from Matthew's back and onto the gound.

Matthew spun, and, upon seeing a pale man with a shock of white hair staring at him and clutching his stomach, abruptly pulled his arm back and punched the man square in the face. The man fell backwards, toppling onto the back of a chair that had been behind him, not looking particularly hurt, but not moving to get up either, just peering at him through the darkness.

Not wasting any time to retrieve his missing weapons, Matthew quickly turned and raced out of the tent. He just needed to get out of there.

Running as fast as he possibly could while also attempting to stay hidden in the shadows, he sprinted between the tents, desperate to get away. He had to hurry. The man would be coming after him, and as he did not have to hide like Matthew did, he would most certainly be going faster than him. His only chance would be if he got out of the camp and into the woods, where he had had the foresight to scope out a hiding place for a situation such as this.

As he reached the very edge of the camp, he heard footsteps running after him. Oh, no. They were getting closer, fast. Abandoning all caution, Matthew ran as fast as his legs could carry him, stumbling over rocks and other things that littered the ground, invisible in the dark of the night.

As Matthew's knees buckled for a second and his hands hit the ground, he realized something. The footsteps that had been trailing him earlier had stopped. Matthew paused for a second in his endeavor to confirm this, before pushing himself up to continue his race to the woods.

He puzzled over why the man had stopped chasing him. Had he gone to get reinforcements? Just the thought made Matthew run faster and his blood turn cold. But then again, maybe he had just fallen or something. There were lots of ways to get hurt out here, especially in the dark. He hoped that's what had happened.

Nonetheless, he still needed to hide. He'd figure out what to do after that later. Right now he just had to reach the woods-

And suddenly the man was standing right in front of him.

Oh, shit, how had that happened?! He was just standing there expectantly, smirking slightly. Matthew had turned to run in the opposite direction when there was a _thud_, and Matthew's head was assaulted by blinding pain. He felt himself falling, before strong, thin arms caught him. He hazily looked up and saw the man's pale face gazing at him intently.

"As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted, I am the Awesome General Gilbert Beilschmidt."

And then darkness descended upon him, swirling around in his vision and making him dizzy, and all he saw was black.

* * *

**So yeah, that's that. Oh, no, what's gonna happen to poor Mattie? Kesesese~ You'll just have to wait and see!** **Hope you liked it- and REVIEW! Please?! Reviews are the awesomest thing in the world! Thank you to everyone who actually took the time to read the whole chapter to the end. :D You're all Prussia awesome!**

**~Potter-chan**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys! So, um, here's this chapter... hope you like it? Don't really know what else to say. ^.^**

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The mist swirled around, taking on various vague shapes and colors before solidifying.

_Matthew walked alone down a white and beige hallway, towards Arthur's office._

_He had been summoned to this secret underground military base by Commander Arthur Kirkland, who just so happened to be his adoptive big brother. _

_Apparently, Arthur had a potential mission for him that was so top secret he couldn't even hint at what it was over the super secure phone line they were using. It certainly was intriguing. _

_That, coupled with the fact that Matthew's twin brother, Alfred, was currently residing at the base had given him enough incentive to get up at four in the morning to catch his flight from his cozy little home in Québec to the outskirts of a small town in rural New York_. _Speaking of which, where was Alfred? Matthew had told him he was coming today... _

_As if on cue, Alfred suddenly burst out of an unmarked door on Matthew's left, and tackled him into an enormous hug. _

_"Mattie!" He exclaimed. "Long time no see! I missed you, bro!"_

_"H-hey Al. How have you been?" gasped Matthew, struggling to breathe. Alfred's hugs were suffocatingly strong._

_"I've been awesome! I get to hang out with Artie every day now!"_

_"That's great-" started Matthew in his soft voice before he was cut off._

_"Oh, right, you need to go see him! Come on!" And Alfred started off down the hallway, dragging Matthew along with him._

* * *

_They stopped in front of a plain white door that blended in with the white of the wall yet still somehow managed to look distinguished. It was labeled 'Commander Arthur Kirkland'. Without stopping to knock, Alfred turned the handle and threw open the door. It hit the wall with a resounding _bang. _Arthur, who had been working at his desk inside, jolted with surprise. Alfred strolled into the office to stand in front of the desk, Matthew following to stand next to him._

_"What do you want, you git? I told you not to bother me until Matthew got here!" Arthur snapped irritably. Matthew sighed inwardly. Not again._

_"Artieee! Mattie's right here!" Alfred cried, gesturing at Matthew wildly. Arthur stared for a minute, puzzled, before realization washed over his features._

_"Oh! I'm sorry, Matthew, I didn't see you there. Forgive me," he said apologetically._

_"It's fine," said Matthew, dismissing the topic. Arthur not seeing him was nothing new. It had been like that ever since he was a small child; Matthew doubted it would change now. He was used to it, anyway. It wasn't just Arthur; he was invisible to almost everyone. The only people who ever saw him were Alfred and his big brother-in-law, Francis. Francis and Arthur had gotten married a year ago after growing up together. It had taken quite a while for Arthur to accept that he was in love with Francis, but he had, and they were now happily married. Matthew liked Francis in part because he noticed him just as much as Alfred did, almost all the time. Still, having only two people out of the entire world notice you was kind of depressing, but Matthew figured he could deal with it. He was an assassin for God's sake! He didn't have time for stupid emotions like that._

_"You needed to see me?" asked Matthew._

_"Ah, yes," Arthur said. "Alfred, leave."_

_"What?! Artie, you can't just kick me out-"_

_"Go, Alfred. We need to discuss this in private. If Matthew accepts the mission, he can tell you about it later."_

_"But Mattie-"_

_"Alfred." It was Matthew that spoke this time. He knew Alfred wanted to stay with him for support, but Matthew wasn't as weak as he once was. He could take care of himself._

_Alfred simply looked at Matthew for a minute before nodding. "Alright bro. Later then." He walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him._

_"Now, Matthew, I assume you've heard of General Gilbert Beilschmidt?" And indeed he had. There were very few people that hadn't; he was quite infamous._

_Matthew nodded. "Yes."_

_"Then you'll know that he has become ...a bit of a problem for us. The higher-ups have decided that he needs to be, uh, taken care of._

_"This is a very important mission, lad, which is why I thought of you. This will likely be a dangerous, difficult mission, but I believe that should you accept it, you will succeed. Do you accept this mission?" Arthur looked up at Matthew expectantly._

_Matthew thought for a moment. He had no reason not to, and quite a few for the affirmative. If he accepted he could avenge all the soldiers killed by Beilschmidt's armies, prevent more people from dying, and maybe, he thought with a hint of a smile and a spark of hope, people might finally notice him._

_"I'm in." He stated determinedly._

_"You're quite sure?" asked Arthur._

_"Yes."_

_"Brilliant." Arthur said with a small smile. "We will discuss the details later. You are dismissed."_

* * *

_As Matthew walked back down the hallway, he was once again assaulted with a giant hug by Alfred._

_"Mattie! What did Artie say?"_

_"I've been assigned a mission to kill General Gilbert Beilschmidt," Matthew replied._

_"What?! Mattie, you can't do that! It's too dangerous, that guy's insane!"_

_"Alfred-"_

_"No! How could Arthur tell you to do that? What if you went and he caught you?!"_

_"But Alfred, I'm perfectly capable of-"_

_"No!" Alfred said again. "Come on Mattie, I'm gonna go talk to Arthur."_

_"But- ahh!" And Matthew was dragged away down the hall._

* * *

_"Arthur! What the hell do you think you're doing, sending Mattie on a dangerous mission like that?!" yelled Alfred as he burst into Arthur's office._

_Arthur looked up from the papers he had been working on, startled. "Bloody hell Alfred, he's not a child. Matthew is a fully trained assassin, one of the best in the world. What on earth makes you think he can't handle this?"_

_"This Beilschmidt guy is dangerous! I'm the hero; I can't let him hurt Mattie, and the only way I can protect him is if he's here! So he's staying!" Alfred yelled, frantic._

_"Alfred, it's already been decided. He's going. Now stop bothering me, you bloody wanker." Arthur said crossly._

_"No, Arthur-"_

_"Yes, Alfred."_

_"No!"_

_"Matthew, would you go wait in the hall for a minute?" Arthur asked, standing up._

_"Uh... of course," Matthew replied, confused. He stepped out through the door into the hallway._

_"Thank you," said Arthur as he shut the door._

_"He. Is. Going. You. Bloody. Twit!" Matthew heard Arthur yell through the door, each word punctuated by the sound of a book hitting Alfred's head, and Alfred's loud protests._

_After another minute or so of shouting and Arthur whacking Alfred with various dictionaries and encyclopedias, the yelling died down to soft whispers that Matthew couldn't make out from his side of the door._

_A few seconds later, the door opened and Arthur stepped out of his office, looking triumphant._

_"It's been settled. You're going." He smirked. "Right Al?"_

_Alfred scowled. "Yeah, whatever."_

_Matthew sighed. He wondered what having a normal family was like..._

* * *

And then the mist swirled around again, dissolving the scene and depositing Matthew back into the present.

He was vaguely aware of the feeling of being carried. He opened his eyes. It was still dark, so Matthew assumed he hadn't been out long. He also discovered that the man he now knew was Beilschmidt was carrying him bridal-style away from the woods. His head hurt. He groaned in pain.

Beilschmidt looked down at him in slight surprise.

"Awake already? Kesesese. That was fast. Anyway, you can't be awake yet. Back to sleep with you."

Matthew started to struggle, but Beilschmidt hit him over the head again with the heel of his gun, and the darkness engulfed his once again.

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**So nce again, that's that. In case it wasn't clear, that was a memory in a dream. Sorry if you were expecting this to be the scene where Mattie and Gil meet officially, without Gil knocking him on the head with his gun every two seconds, but this is what came out of my head, so... sorry. Please don't kill me!**

**Later, mein leiblings!**

**~Potter-chan 3**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi! I'm back. :D So here's this week's chapter, hope you guys like it, as always. Oh, and I kep forgetting to thank people, so finally, thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, favorited, alerted, and even just took the time to read this fic. You guys are all Prussia awesome. :D And thanks to my friend Allers 3 for beta-ing the last chapter, you're Prussia awesome too. :D And thanks to all my friends who gave me ideas and helped me brainstorm. :D Once again, you guys are Prussia awesome, too. :D**

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The first thing Matthew became aware of was his pounding headache. The second was that he felt like he had been hit by a truck. He groaned in pain and tried to grab his head, but discovered he couldn't; it seemed as though his hands were tied behind his back...

Oh, shit.

Matthew remembered now. That bastard Beilschmidt had managed to capture him somehow!

He still didn't understand how that had happened. What had happened to his invisibility? It made no sense that this man, who he had never met before, could see him when he was actually trying to be invisible. It was ridiculous, preposterous. There was no way this could have happened. And yet...

It had.

Matthew had to get out. He had to get back to Alfred, Francis and Arthur before Beilschmidt did whatever horrible things the Prussians did to their prisoners of war to him.

He took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind. Panicking would do him no good. He figured that in order to escape, he'd have to scope out his surroundings so he could hatch an escape plan.

He slowly opened his eyes. He was looking at the ground in front of him. A bit of sunlight filtered through the top of the tent, shining on the greenish-brown grass that tickled his bound hands.

He then looked up, and abruptly jerked back with a yelp as he was met with the sight of his captor leaning over him, blood red eyes only inches from his own lavender ones. Oh, god, how had he not noticed him when he was so close?!

Beilschmidt smirked.

"Hello there, little birdie. Trying to fly away, were you? Silly Birdie. You can't just come and try to kill me and expect to be able to leave. Not alive, anyway." He said as he sat down on the ground in front of the incapacitated Canadian.

Matthew's eyes widened in terror.

"N-no! My b-brother will c-come rescue me!" He stuttered out.

"Really, little Birdie? Well, he can try all he likes, but no one can save you now." The Prussian said ominously.

"H-he will!" He whispered in his soft voice, straining his wrists against the ropes restraining them.

"Whatever you say, Birdie." The Prussian said, picking himself up off the ground, brushing pieces of grass off the dark blue pants of his military uniform.

"I'll be back in a little while. Don't go anywhere in the meantime! Kesesese." And with that he was gone out the exit of the tent, leaving Matthew alone to take in the full force of his predicament.

From what Matthew could tell, if he had to guess he'd say he was in Beilschmidt's own tent for some reason. He was pretty sure; the bed was in the same place as the one he had seen in Beilschmidt's tent the night before, as well as the chair and the desk. Also, he doubted there were many other tents with desks in them; this was a military camp, not a school. Having a desk would be reserved for the general. No one else needed one, so no one else had one.

What Matthew couldn't figure out was why he was there. Didn't they have a place for prisoners? It would make the most sense for him to be placed there. Unless... Unless Beilschmidt didn't take prisoners. That's right! Matthew remembered reading in his mission briefing that the general didn't take prisoners.

The Canadian's blood ran cold.

If they didn't take prisoners, why was he there? What was Beilschmidt planning to do with him? Matthew didn't know, but if he had to guess he'd say it was something bad. Very bad.

Matthew resumed tugging at the ropes binding his hands, harder this time.

* * *

Gilbert walked alone through the forest, lost in thought. He certainly had things to think about, such as: What the hell was he doing?!

This guy, Birdie, had come to _kill_ his awesomeness... And instead of returning the favor (successfully, though, since obviously Birdie had failed) tenfold, and completely destroying him like he normally would, all he had done was knock him out, tie him up, and stick him in his tent! He had no idea what had possessed him to do that. Although... he was kind of cute... But that was beside the point!

And now what was he going to do with him? He didn't take prisoners. He didn't really know how he was supposed to handle this. It was not awesome.

And how was he going to explain this to Ludwig? In two weeks both he and his little brother would be going home to Berlin, to the house they shared. He'd have to figure out what to do with Birdie and how he was going to explain his presence and why he'd suddenly decided to break his 'No Prisoners' rule before then.

He supposed he would just take Birdie with him to Berlin. Really, there was nothing else the Prussian could think of to do with him. As for how to explain him... Maybe he could say he thought it'd be useful to have a captive to interrogate for information, and he thought since Birdie was an assassin, he'd have more info than some random, unawesome soldier he'd defeated on the battlefield.

Although, that meant he'd have to interrogate Birdie, and actually get information out of him before he got to Berlin. Otherwise Ludwig would surely want to take over interrogating him, and as German torture methods were notoriously brutal, he didn't want Birdie to go through that.

He looked so fragile, like a gust of wind could knock him right over. Gilbert couldn't let Ludwig torture his Birdie- Wait, what? He wasn't _his _Birdie. He was Birdie. Just Birdie. But then again, he had captured him and could now do as he pleased with him. So technically he was his...

Gilbert sighed as he looked up through the tree branches at the late summer sky. Gott, when he had recieved word from Francis that an assassin was coming for him, he certainly hadn't expected the assassin to be this much trouble.

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**Yeah, so that was fairly uneventful, but stuff is gonna happen later, I swear. Oh, and I'm pretty much just making this up as I go along, so if anyone wants to help me by giving me ideas, or tips, or anything, that would be totally awesome. :D Oh, and I just reached 30 followers, so yay! :D Thanks so much everyone! :D**

** ~Potter-chan **


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi guys! I'm back agan, and this time the chapter is over 2,000 words! Yay! :D Yeah, so I don't like the beginning much, I feel like it's awkward, but I think the middle and the end are kind of better. Hopefully. So I want to thank Idea-explosion for giving me ideas with your questions. :D And KingdomKuroGeass for the idea for the events at the end. :D I hope I did it justice? And my friend for practically writing a part of it herself cause I couldn't do it... :P**

* * *

Matthew sighed in defeat.

He'd spent over an hour trying to loosen the ropes that bound his wrists to a sturdy metal pole that had been embedded in the ground behind him. Unfortuantely, whoever had tied them, Beilschmidt he guessed, had tied them expertly, leaving practically no way to escape them. All the poor Canadian had achieved in the past hour was acquiring large amounts of rope burn on his wrists.

Matthew's stomach rumbled. How long had it been since he'd last eaten? He was famished. He hoped they weren't planning to starve him; that would really throw a wrench in his plans to escape.

His few hours alone in Beilschmidt's tent had given him more than enough time to think of a plan. After years of Francis telling him he was adorable, like a little girl or a kitten (Matthew had never liked it when he told him this, he might not be the most masculine guy ever, but he didn't look like a girl! Except in that stupid dress Francis and Al used to force him into when Arthur wasn't looking, but that didn't count. Of course he looked like a girl then, he was wearing a dress!), he figured he could use his cuteness to trick Beilschmidt into believing he was just as weak and innocent as he appeared. Which normally he was, innocent at least (as innocent as an assassin could be), but he was by no means weak.

And if that didn't work, he figured he could possibly try to seduce him. He'd never really tried to seduce anyone before, but he figured he could do it. He had grown up with Francis, after all.

The tent flap flew aside with a _whoosh _to reveal the general, bearing a plate of food. That was good. Maybe he wasn't going to starve him after all. But Matthew figure the food was probably to trade for information, and he had already decided that while he'd eventually tell them anything about himself, he would not sell out his brothers and their side. They could kill him for all he cared, but he would not betray his family.

Matthew looked up shyly at Beilschmidt from under his eyelashes and spoke softly.

"H-hello G-general. C-could I have some of that food p-please? I'm so hungry..." He said mournfully. He wasn't nearly scared or flustered enough to be stammering that much anymore though; the pitiful inflections in his voice were just for effect. If this didn't work, he was done for.

The general was slightly taken aback. Birdie seemed kind of different than when he had first woken up. Less "You'll never get away with this, you evil villain!", and more "Please don't hurt me, I'm so very sorry", complete with the sad puppy dog eyes. He wondered whether it was an act, which it most likely was, or if the little birdie really was as adorably terrified as he appeared. Maybe it was real, and Birdie had just been the way he was when he had first woken up to hide his fear behind the false confidence (Gilbert suspected this was the case either way), but he doubted the timidness Birdie was showing now was real.

He was an assassin, and one of the very best, from what Francis had told him. He hadn't told him his name, though. Apparently, Francis had just overheard Arthur on the phone in another room, saying something about a world class assassin, and how by the end of the month, they wouldn't have to worry about "that bloody bastard that calls himself Gilbert Beilschmidt" anymore. How very wrong they were. Gilbert was too awesome to be taken out like that.

"I have some questions I need to ask you. You're going to answer all questions I ask truthfully. If you answer whatever questions I ask today, I'll give you this food. You got that?" Gilbert looked at his captive expectantly.

"B-b-but I can't!" Birdie cried softly. He then proceeded to burst into tears.

Oh, _gott_. Faking or not, Gilbert was not prepared for _this. _He was an awesome general for _gott's _sake! He didn't know how to deal with crying people! What was he supposed to do now?

"Hey! I, uh, d-don't cry! Crying is so unawesome! It's alright, okay? The awesome me isn't going to hurt you."

"Y-you promise?" Birdie asked with a sniffle, sounding much like a small child after a nightmare.

"Well, I, uh..."

Normally he'd just promise that without another thought, but this was Birdie, and he had been planning on obtaining information from him one way or another. He wasn't past hurting him a little, if only to save him from Ludwig's interrogation tehniques, and he didn't want to lie to his Birdie.

"...If you cooperate."

Birdie flinched but remained silent, watching him fearfully.

"We'll start with something easy, okay? Tell me your name."

"...Matthew. My name is Matthew." he said hesitantly.

"Matthew what? I want your full name."

"I-i'm not supposed ... to tell you..."

"Come on Birdie, I just need your last name and we'll be done for today. Just one little thing, and what can I do with just your name?" Gilbert said sternly. He hoped Birdie wasn't going to fight him on this, if he did it would be even harder to get him to tell him the important things. He was already taking this almost unbearably slow.

There was a tense silence in which Gilbert tried his best to stare into Matthew's soul and get him to tell him, seemingly making Matthew uncomfortable.

"Williams-Kirkland. Matthew Williams-Kirkland." He hung his head in defeat.

"That wasn't so hard, was it? So Matthew Williams-Kirkland, huh? Awesome. Sounds kind of familiar somehow...

"Anyway, you can eat now." He stuck his head out the flap of the tent and yelled something in German. Seconds later, a stern-looking soldier in a dark blue uniform similar to the one Beilschmidt wore, stepped into the tent, his submachine gun in his arms and at the ready. He pointed it at Matthew.

"I'm going to untie you now so you can eat. Don't move and don't even think about trying anything. It could be the last thing you ever do."

Matthew nodded nervously and stayed perfectly still, not daring to move a muscle and risk getting shot.

Beilschimdt slowly leaned over him, reaching for his bound wrists. With deft fingers he carefully untied the ropes encircling them, and they fell away. He moved back quickly, watching Matthew warily. Matthew didn't move, other than to slowly bring his hands up in front of him and start rubbing the, trying to bring back the circulation.

He wasn't stupid. He knew he couldn't try anything, not with Beilschmidt watching him like a hawk and a gun trained on his head. The general walked back to th soldier and took the gun from him, keeping it pointed at Matthew.

"Danke." He said, and the soldier saluted him and left.

Beilschmidt sat on the chair in frnt of Matthew and motioned to the plate of food in front of him

"Eat."

Mathew just looked at him warily.

"What you said you were hungry... It's not poisoned, if that's what you're afraid of. If I wanted to kill you, I could just shoot you here and now. The awesome me doesn't poison people."

Matthew looked satisfied by his answer. He quckly picked up the spoon and ate ravenously. As Matthew ate, Gilbert took the opportunity to study him. His pale golden hair was kind of long, and and fell in soft waves in his face, and over his deep purple eyes. Matthew looked up, and their eyes met, crimson on violet. For a moment they stayed like that, looking into each other's eyes, until Matthew looked away, staring at the ground.

"Well, uh, looks like you're done, so I'm just gonna, uh, tie you up again and... go."

He quickly walked forward and grabbed Matthew's wrists, pinning them to the pole behind him with one hand while picking up the discarded rope with the other and retying his wrsts to the pole. He then picked up the empty plate and hurried out of the tent.

A few hours later, he returned with another meal, repeating the earlier process of giving him food. Some time after that, long after night had fallen, Beilschmidt walked into the tent with a yawn and flopped onto his bed.

"Night, Birdie." And the sound of obnoxious snoring promptly filled the tent.

While sitting there trying (and failing) to block out the sound of the snoring and fall asleep sitting up, Matthew's thoughts drifted towards his Prussian captor.

He was... different than he'd expected him to be, he wasn't all stern and emotionless like too many military leaders were. He had smiled- actually smiled, not stupid fake smiled or sadistic creepy smiled- at him, and he seemed like he actually didn't want to hurt him. And he had actually noticed him enough to capture him, which intrigued him. And how he called him Birdie, even though he now knew his name. The nickname held no malice, only playful happiness, which both confused and intrigued him. And his deep red eyes were so...wait.

What was he thinking?! This man was the enemy! He had captured him, he couldn't afford to be thinking like this! He was going to trick him and stab him in the back (both figuratively and literally) so he could get back to Canada and his family. That was his last thought as he drifted off to sleep.

He awoke the next morning creepily similar to how he had woken up the previous morning. His back was sore from sleeping sitting up and tied to a pole all night, and he yawned deeply before blinking his eyes open. He once again jerked back with a yelp as his Prussian captor was once again way too close to his face.

"Ahhh! W-why do you keep doing that?" Matthew asked agitatedly (which is to say, mildly).

"Cause it's fun. You have pretty eyelashes! Kesesese. I'll be back later, Birdie!"

Birdie blushed red and and looked down shyly.

...You have pretty eyelashes? _Gott,_ what the hell had possessed him to say that? He seriously had to get out of there before he started talking about rainbows and butterflies and other unawesome things. He started walking toards the training grounds, where he and his men practiced killing people in two hundred different ways and everything was nice and safe.

And Matthew was once again left alone in Beilschmidt's tent. What they didn't tell you in the movies was how mind-numbingly boring being held prisoner was. Seriously, there were only so many times one could plot daring escapes before even that got old.

Just as Matthew was pondering over how he was going to die of boredom before Beilschmidt could even think of killing him, the entrance flap of the tent was pushed back. Beilschmidt was back already? He had just left... Wait. That wasn't Beilschmidt. The strange person had just entered the tent and started walking slowly towards Matthew.

He was tall and thin, in the same Prussian military uniform as the other soldier he had seen the day before. He was young, about 22 or so, and was quite good looking. His dirty blond hair fell over his brown eyes, which were gleaming with malice.

It terrified Matthew. Had Beilschmidt sent him? No, he wouldn't do that... would he? But Matthew was getting ahead of himself. He didn't even know what the man had come for. Perhaps he had come to relay a message or something. That was possible, right?

Matthew looked up at the soldier hesitantly and waited for him to say something. The man leaned over him and spoke.

"You look much too pretty to be an assassin." Matthew shifted uncomfortably.

"I-i don't think the General would approve of you being in h-here."

He scoffed. "But the General isn't here right now. And you looked so pretty and lonely." He placed his hand on Matthw's cheek, and Matthew pulled away and fearfully looked up at him. The man noticed his fear and laughed.

"It's alright, little one. I won't hurt you. Much."

"Please... leave me alone." Matthew whispered timidly.

"Shut up, you pathetic excuse for an assassin. Despite how good you might have thought you were, you were never any match for us. You're useless, and a failure."

Matthew looked away dejcetedly. It was all true. He had failed his brother and his country. He couldn't even save himself from this stupid hoser.

"So weak..."

The man ran his hand along his cheek and roughly grabbed his hair and pulled him forward. A pair of lips roughly smashed into his own, and Matthew squeaked in surprise and tried to pull away from the soldier, but it was futile as the man continued his actions despite Matthew's resistance.

Matthew was panicking, but hope sparked in his chest as he finally managed to slip his left hand out of the ropes he'd been loosening all morning. He raised his hand and slapped the man full on in the face, hard.

The man's head jerked to the side, a red mark slowly spreading across his cheek, and he raised his head slowly, a dangerous look crossing his features.

Matthew then realized that he had just made a horrible mistake as the soldier took his gun from his coat pocket and pointed it at Matthew.

"Wrong move." Hissed the soldier as he placed the gun to Matthew's forehead. Suddenly the entrance flap of the tent flew open, and Matthew's attacker jerked in surprise as he pulled the trigger.

_Bang!_

Immense, undescribable pain roared through Matthew's thin body as he felt the bullet rip through his arm, tearing through skin and muscle.

"Birdie!" he heard a voice scream, but he couldn't tell who through the haze of pain. The darkness enveloped him again, and this time he welcomed it.

* * *

**I hope you guys thought the end was okay? I feel like it wasn't as good as my usual endings. So yeah, about the whole awkward creepy kiss thing, my friend practically had to write it for me, because I can't write kisses and stuff (So I'm going to need a lot of help for the end of this fic...), and if you were hoping for more... mature content or something, I'm so, so, very sorry, but I won't even read rated M things, much less write them (no, I'm not a little kid, I'm almost 16, I'm just very innocent, according to my friends.) that scene was so awkward to write! . And if sometimes I post a few day late, I'm terribly sorry, but me and my friends are going to a con in December and I'm gonna be working on my Pirate Prussia and Punk England cosplays a lot. :D Later guys!**

**~Potter-chan. :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys! :D So unfortunately, this is like my shortest chapter yet. -.- But I like it anyway. ^.^ Revenge is sweet. I hope I wrote it good enough. I'm new to all this, so please don't hate me if it sucks! Translations at the bottom... Enjoy. :D**

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Gilbert raced into the tent, stopping at the sight of the soldier with his gun pointed at Birdie and the deep crimson stain slowly spreading across his shirt.

With barely contained rage rushing through him, he pulled out his own sleek black revolver and shot at the soldier's gun, knocking it out of his hand and rendering it useless. He shot again at the man's leg. It hit the target and he screamed as it shattered bone, before collasping to the ground. He then shot his other leg, making both of his legs unusable.

Gilbert growled and ran towards Birdie, kicking his attacker away with more force than necessary as he groaned in pain.

" Scheiße." He muttered, looking over him. He kneeled next to the unconcious boy and carefully untied him, catching him as he slumped over.

He gathered up the boy in his arms, stood up, and sprinted out of his tent towards the medical tent. He would wait to deal with that bastard until he was sure Birdie would be okay.

Soldiers paused in their actions to watch him pass, wondering what had happened and why their general was running frantically through camp carrying a bloody, unconcious boy that was not part of their army. He paid them no notice. He called out as he neared the light green tent in which the doctor could be found.

"Roderich!" He pushed aside the tent and lightly laid Birdie onto one of the mattresses reserved for the wounded. They were all empty; it seemed none of his soldiers were sick or injured at the moment. Roderich, the doctor, was a serious young man in a white medical coat with glasses and a cowlick sticking up from his brown hair. He looked up at Gilbert in surprise.

"Was ist passiert?" He asked.

"Ihm helfen." Gilbert ordered, giving him a look that told him not to ask questions.

"Natürlich." Roderich replied, before standing up to gather the things he needed.

Gilbert gazed at the unconcious blond on the mattress for a moment. He looked so fragile and tiny and innocent. Seeing him covered in blood was just wrong. He was like a little bird, tiny and adorable. He didn't look like he could hurt anyone, much less kill them. He wondered why he was even an assassin in the first place. It didn't seem like his kind of thing. He was just a kid. And right now, he looked like he was in so much pain.

He turned around sharply and stormed out of the medical tent. He didn't know why he felt so angry, but he did know one thing: The man who had done this would soon regret it. Severely.

As Gilbert neared his tent, he became angrier and angrier, knowing each step brought him closer to the man who had hurt Birdie. As he approached, he spotted the soldier just outside the entrance, leaning on the side of the tent and limping painfully slowly away. Gilbert strode up to the man and stood there for a moment, grinning wickedly, before reaching out and grabbing his collar.

He dragged him back to his tent and shoved him inside roughly, following close behind. The man fell to the ground with a cry. He attempted to sputter out excuses as he tried to use his elbows to prop himself up, but Gilbert was beyond reason.

Burning fury coursed through his body as he lifted his foot and violently stomped on the soldier's injured thigh. He then did it again, harder, and was rewarded with a sickening _snap _as something. The soldier screamed in agony and stuggled weakly as Gilbert continued his assault.

He then hauled the battered man to his feet by his collar and punched him in the jaw. A resounding crack rang through the air as Gilbert smiled cruelly. He punched him again, and blood started spurting from his nose in a current.

He did it again and again, and dark purple bruises and cuts started appearing on his face. His lip was split and one eye was completely swollen shut, and he was nearly unconcious.

He realeased his hold on the soldier's shirt and he collapsed to the ground. The bloodied and bruised man looked up at him weakly, pleadingly.

"General... Bitte... Es tut mir leid..."

"Nein. Es ist zu spät." He raised his gun and glared, eyes full of flaming fury, down at the man who had hurt his... no, not his... oh, fuck it. He wasn't going to stop himself from sayng it any longer.

"No one touches my Birdie."

He pulled the trigger, there was a _bang, _and a bullet hole appeared on the man's forehead. The man's eyes widened for a split second; in surprise or pain Gilbert didn't know.

They they fell closed and he slumped forward, dead.

* * *

**Translations:**

**Scheiße- Shit**

**Was ist passiert?- What happened?**

**Ihm helfen- Help him**

**Natürlich- Of course**

**General... Bitte... Es tut mir leid...- General... Please... I'm sorry...**

**Nein. Es ist zu spät.- No. It's too late for that.**

**Yes, I know most of the dialgue for this sucks, I don't know why, I'm usually better at it. O.o Anyway, here's the translations, I know when I posted this on Sunday it didn't have the translations, I put them here, the end note just kind of disappeared. O.o Also, yay, Austria's here! Hope you liked this chapter. :D**

**~Potter-chan**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey guys! Sorry this chapter's a little late, I fell asleep while typing it, and so I didn't finish in time to post it yesterday. :( So here's this chapter, it's kinda uneventful, but the next chapter will be pretty eventful most likely, so never fear. :D Hope you guys like it. :D Thanks to everyone who reviewed and favorited and everything, I love you all. :D**

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Matthew awoke in a dreamy haze. He was vaguely aware of soft blankets covering him, and lying on a bed as soft as his own back home. As he slowly became more aware, he noticed that he was no longer tied up.

He tried to sit up and noticed a deep, throbbing pain in his upper arm. He winced and lay back down. It occurred to him that it was the perfect time to escape, when he wasn't tied up and he was alone, and Beilschmidt still thought he was asleep. But then he shifted again, and the pain that shot through his arm was enough to convince him to stay put, at least for the moment.

He looked around and saw that he wasn't in Beilschmidt's tent anymore. Judging by the medical supplies and things that were arranged neatly around the tent, he was in the doctor's tent.

Just then the flap of the tent was pushed back and a serious-looking young man with glasses and a white coat stepped into the tent.

"Ah, you're awake. How do you feel?"

"My arm hurts a bit, but I'm fine. Are you the doctor?"

"Yes. I'm Roderich. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too."

Roderich walked over to a table in the middle of the room and uncapped a bottle of some kind of medicine, pouring it onto a spoon. He rose and carried the spoon over to Matthew.

"Here, you have to take this. It tastes terrible, yes, but you have to take it so you can get better."

"I-okay..." Matthew said, not being able to say no.

He drank the bitter liquid and grimaced. Roderich hadn't been lying when he said it tasted terrible.

"I have to go inform Gilbert that you're awake so he can take you back to his tent, okay?"

Matthew didn't reply, but Roderich must have seen the slightly apprehensive look on his face, because he paused on his way out and walked back to where Matthew lay.

"Look, I know Gilbert decided to be an idiot as usual and keep you here, and that was a stupid thing to do, but I know him, he's really not a bad guy. He was really worried about you. I practically had to beat him back with a stick to get him to leave so I could work on your arm.

"Do you know what he did to the man who shot you? After he brought you to me, he went back and beat him with his bare hands to within an inch of his life. There was blood everywhere, and he wasn't even recognizable through all the bruises and cuts. And then Gilbert shot him, right between the eyes. He killed him. Because he hurt you."

Matthew's eyes widened. He really killed someone... for him? The Canadian didn't quite know what to make of that.

"Now, I'll be right back. Please don't move, you'll only hurt yourself." Roderich said as he walked away.

Gilbert was in the communications tent, talking to one of his soldiers when he saw Roderich come in. He quickly broke off his conversation and hurried over to him.

"What happened, Roddy? Is he okay?"

"Don't call me Roddy!" And he's fine, you dolt. I just came to tell you that he's awake and you can take him back to your quarters now, if you want."

"I can? Awesome!" Gilbert turned to leave, but Roderich stopped him with a hand on his chest.

"Gilbert."

"Yeah?"

"For God's sake, try not to make the poor boy any more scared than he already is. He's trying not to show it, but he's terrified."

"He's scared of me?"

"Not you in particular, but his whole situation. Think, Gilbert, he's been captured by an enemy who's infamously brutal and fearsome, and now he's stuck here, in a strange land with no one on his side and no idea what's going to happen to him."

"You're right..." Gilbert trailed off. "How do I make him not afraid of me?" He demanded.

Roderich sighed. "You can't just make him like you. It takes time, and patience. And you have to be nice to him instead of being all creepy like you have been."

"Hey! I'm not creepy!"

"Shut up, you idiot. Now if you want him to like you, you have to get to know each other. Ask him about his normal life and such, his family and friends, and what he likes to do, things like that. Just be his friend, really."

"Be his friend..." Gilbert repeated. "Thanks Roddy!"

"I told you not to call me that!" Roderich yelled after Gilbert as he dashed off to get Matthew.

Gilbert found Matthew lying on a bed alone in the medical tent, half asleep. When he caught sight of Gilbert, he sat up and looked at him, eyes more alert.

"Hey Birdie, how do you feel? I would've stayed with you, but Roddy was being unawesome and kicked me out."

"I-it's okay. I feel fine."

"That's good." Gilbert's jaw tightened. "I just wish I could've gotten there before that bastard hurt you..." Gilbert looked at the ground.

"I'm sorry, Birdie."

"Don't be sorry. You saved me... he was going to kill me, and you... you saved me. _Merci_, General Beilschmidt."

Gilbert smiled softly. "Come on kid, quit being so formal. Meinawesome name's Gilbert."

"_Merci_, Gilbert." Matthew said, looking into Gilbert's eyes.

"Uh, yeah, no problem." Gilbert said, looking away awkwardly.

"Oh, right, Roddy said all you need now to get better is rest, so you can come back to my tent!" Gilbert said as he stepped over to his Birdie's bed and swiftly picked him up.

"W-what are you doing?" Matthew stuttered questioningly.

"You're hurt, aren't you?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Then you shouldn't strain yourself by walking around! So the awesome me is going to carry you!"

"A-alright." Matthew agreed hesitantly.

And Gilbert strode off, holding his little Birdie tightly to his chest.

Matthew was in the middle of a raging inner battle between the side of him that was of the opinion, "This guy is evil, he captured me and he's the enemy and I have to kill him and escape!", and the side that thought things like this: "_Mon Dieu_, his eyes are so beautiful and he's so strong and he saved me from that evil bastard and he's so adorable and I want to just kiss him right now!"

With both sides warring within him, and no absolute winner yet, Matthew settled for clutching the folds of Gilbert's jacket and leaning his head against his chest. He think he knew which side was winning at the moment.

Gilbert looked down in surprise as he felt the light weight of his Birdie's head on his chest. If Birdie was going to stay cuddled up to him like this the whole way back, maybe he should take the long way...

Gilbert carefully sat Birdie onto his bed, layering blankets over him until he was convinced his Birdie was warm enough. He then sat on the edge of the bed at the other end.

"You'll have to share a bed with me, okay? Cause I have the awesomest bed here, and you have to be comfortable so you can heal, right?"

"O-okay." Matthew said, not really minding the prospect, for whatever weird reason.

"Awesome. So..." Gilbert tried to remember what Roddy had told him to do to get Birdie to like him.

"What do you like to do back where you live?" He asked, scratching the back of his neck.

Matthew raised an eyebrow.

"Well, I play hockey..."

"Hockey, huh?"

"Yes, _mon Dieu_, it's the best sport ever!"

Gilbert was slightly surprised at that. Wasn't hockey a violent sport? He wondered how this tiny little bird could play such a dangerous sport like hockey... He decided to not even ask.

"Hey, you just spoke French! But you're not French, are you? So... then you're Canadian?"

Matthew nodded slowly.

"I've never been to Canada, what's it like?"

Matthew's features instantly became animated, brightening with delight.

"Oh, it's so beautiful, Gilbert! The forests are such beautiful greens, like emeralds, and the rivers rush so beautifully, and of course the snow is so amazingly beautiful, and it's just so..."

"Beautiful?" Gilbert chuckled at seeing his Birdie so enthusiastic.

"Yeah." Matthew said with a dreamy, slightly homesick look on his face.

"It's really that awesome, huh? Maybe one day when this war is over I'll go visit.

"What's your family like? And your friends?"

"Well, I have a polar bear-"

"You have a polar bear? Like, as a pet? That's so cool!"

Matthew nodded. "His name is Kumakichi... or Kumamomo... or Kumacabbage... or something.

"And I have a twin brother named Alfred. He's such an idiot, going around proclaiming himself the 'hero'. But he means well. What I really hate is when people think I'm him..."

"They confuse you for each other?"

"Well, they never think he is me. They don't even remember I exist. They usually don't notice me unless they think I'm him. Even my good friend Miguel always thinks I'm him whenever he sees me, and then he beats me up, because he and Alfred don't get along to well."

"What? That bastard!" Gilbert didn't get how people could be so unawesome to his little Birdie like that

"No, he's my friend, he doesn't mean it. He always apologizes afterwards..."

"Birdie, he's supposed to be your friend, but he beats you up every time he sees you? That's not right. And all those people acting like you don't exist and forgetting you isn't right either. I don't get how they can do that, especially with how cute you are..."

"W-what?"

"N-nothing! Never mind!" Gilbert stuttered. "There, uh, there must be someone who remembers you."

"Well, there's Al. He remembers me most of the time. And my brother-in-law, Francis. He's from France, but he moved to Canada when he was young and we grew up together."

"Brother-in-law? So... he's married to Alfred?"

Birdie started giggling at that. _Gott, _he was cute when he did that.

"What's so funny?"

"N-nothing, just the thought of Francis being married to Alfred... No, Francis is married to my adoptive big brother, Arthur."

"Arthur, huh? ...What's Francis's last name, Birdie?"

"Bonnefoy. Why?"

"Shit, no way! Seriously?"

"You know him?" Matthew asked quizzically

""He's one of my best friends! When we were kids my family used to go on holiday to France every summer, and we stayed next door to Francis's family, cause you know, he always went back to France for the summer. Me and him and our friend Antonio, _Gott,_ we had such awesome times back then.

"But then this damn war started and I couldn't go back to France anymore. I remember he used to go on and on about his Arthur and how much he loved him. Now that I think about it, he mentioned you too, Birdie."

Gilbert probably should've mentioned that it was Francis who had tipped him off that Birdie was coming, but he didn't want to ruin Birdie's apparent good mood.

"He did? Really?"

"Yeah, Birdie, don't look so surprised. So it's really just your family that remembers you?"

"No, there's my other good friend, Lars." Matthew started blushing slightly against his will as he said this.

Gilbert took notice of this and scowled. "Yeah?'

"He's tall and has spiky blond hair, and he doesn't talk too much, but he's really sweet and he gets people to notice me sometimes. He also has this tulip garden with the most beautiful tulips. Sometimes he'll come to my house and surprise me with some." Matthew said, not noticing how Gilbert's jaw clenched slightly at his words.

"That's nice." Gilbert said, concealing his anger. Who cared about some stupid, unawesome guy with stupid, unawesome flowers anyway? The guy wasn't here, anyway, he was back in Canada. His Birdie was here with him now, and it was going to stay that way. Birdie was _his._

He decided to change the subject in order to avoid having to hear any more about this 'Lars'.

"Hey, so this one time, Francis and Toni and the awesome me went to this topless beach, right? And..."

Hours later, Matthew and Gilbert had been talking for quite a while, the sun had went down some time ago. In that time, Matthew learned quite a few things about Gilbert, including:

-He loved to talk.

-He used the word 'awesome' approximately 124.26 times more than a normal person would.

-He could be silly and playful yet somehow serious at the same time.

-He had a little brother named Ludwig who was a general in the German army that he loved immensely and would do anything for, who had an adorable little Italian boyfriend called Feliciano.

-He was going to Berlin in less than two weeks, and he was planning on taking Matthew with him.

All these things just endeared Gilbert to him further, except for the last one. The last one... hmmm.

Matthew yawned and stretched his arms, looking tired.

Gilbert took notice of this and rose from his position at the foot of the bed.

"You look tired. Come on, let's go to sleep. You're supposed to rest, remember? You're still hurt."

"Okay, Gilbert." Matthew said drowsily as Gilbert blew out the candle on the table and got into bed beside him.

"Hey Matthew?" The Prussian whispered as they lay there in the dark.

"Yes, Gilbert?"

"I... I won't ever forget you."

The feeling of his Birdie cuddling up in his arms was all the answer he needed.

* * *

**Yeah, so... there. :P Was the end cute? I was trying to make the end kind of cute, but I'm not really good at that, so... tell me if it was okay please! And review please, reviews make me sooo happy! :D Oh, and thank you SmileyFacesSmile, your review made me super happy. :D**

**~Potter-chan**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys! So again, thanks for all the reviews and such, they make me happy :D Sorry if parts of this chapter are kind of wierd or something, I had a holiday and so I spent the whole weekend at a family firends's house... they have 5 kids! It's complete chaos, makes it hard to write. Also, a late Eid Mubarak to anyone out there that's Muslim, hope you had a good Eid! And if you're not Muslim... hope you had a good Friday! :D**

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Matthew awoke before the sun. His head was resting on something warm and breathing... Gilbert's chest.

Oh, right, he was in Gilbert's bed... Gilbert. Matthew didn't really know how he felt about Gilbert, but the Prussian noticed him, and when he was with him, his heart beat faster and he felt even more shy than usual, although he talked more.

But as much as he would like to, Matthew couldn't forget where he was and his position here. He was in enemy territory and he was supposed to be trying to escape. What would Alfred say if he saw him here, sleeping with the enemy?

He had to complete his mission and escape, no matter how much it pained him to kill this amazing, breath-taking, intriguing, wonderful man that actually noticed him. He... he was the enemy, he had to be taken out, he would forget about him soon anyway, Alfred and Arthur were counting on him, it didn't matter what he wanted, so he had to do it.

He had to... but he at least wanted a little more time with him. He'd give himself one day. One day with Gilbert, then when Gilbert fell asleep that night, he'd kill him and leave, making his way across Europe and the ocean and back to his brothers.

Gilbert's eyes cracked open and he yawned, wrapping his arms around Matthew.

"Morning, Birdie." He drawled sleepily.

"Good morning, Gilbert." Matthew said quietly, the Prussian's lazy embrace making him blush.

"I have to train with the soldiers this morning, but then we have the rest of the day to ourselves. I have something to show you." Gilbert said as he rose from the bed.

"Okay." Matthew replied happily as he burrowed under the covers.

Gilbert chuckled. "Come on, Birdie, get up. You're coming, too.

The Canadian groaned and threw the covers off of him, hopping out of the bed gracefully. Gilbert rifled through some bags and came up with a light green t-shirt and camo-patterned cargo pants.

"Here," He said, tossing them to him, "They're mine, so they'll be a little big, but I think it'll be fine.

"Don't worry Birdie, I won't look." He said, smirking and turning to face the wall.

When he was done, Gilbert turned to see his Birdie in his clothes, the legs of his pants pooling around his feet and one side of the t-shirt slipping down his shoulder. He looked a bit like a small child playing dress up.

They exited the tent and walked off to the training field, Gilbert talking animatedly about random subjects and Matthew giggling shyly. Gilbert's big submachine gun was strapped to his back and his Prussian blue general's uniform was impeccably neat and tidy.

"Roddy's gonna stay with you while I'm busy, okay? You two can sit and watch the awesome me do my awesome thing."

"Okay." Birdie said amiably.

Gilbert knew he probably shouldn't have been taking Birdie, who was still technically his enemy, to see their military tactics, but he didn't care. He doubted his little Birdie would try to escape as much now that he was untied and they were... friends, if that's what you could call it.

Nonetheless, he couldn't completely forget who and what his Birdie was, and where he came from. That's why he was having Roderich watch him. As much as he wished he could, he couldn't trust him completely.

"You have to stay with him, okay? If my soldiers see someone they don't know wandering around, they'll shoot first and ask qustions later."

"Okay, Gilbert, I'll be fine." Birdie replied, sounding like he was talking to his mother or something.

They reached the edge of the training field, where Roderich was waiting for them. Then Gilbert left Matthew with Roderich and walked off towards his soldiers.

"Come on Matthew, let's go find a nice place to sit." Roderich said, tugging on Matthew's arm.

They found a spot beside a patch of flowers and sat down.

"Your arm is healing well, yes? It hasn't gotten any worse?"

"No, it's fine. I never got to thank you for helping me..."

"Nonsense, I am a doctor. I am in this position to help people, I don't care what side they're on. And Gilbert likes you, which means you really must be something special." Roderich said, staring off into the distance. "Like my Elizabeta."

"Elizabeta?"

"Gilbert and I and my wife, Elizabeta, all grew up together. Both Gilbert and I loved Elizabeta, but Elizabeta chose me, and we got married. She was so wonderful and beautiful and special, and she chose me. I still wonder...

"Anyway, she was the only other person Gilbert ever cared about like that. Normally if he had a prisoner he'd have no problems torturing them and I'd have to plead with him to let me treat them. Obviously he wasn't like that with you, so you must be pretty special."

"Wait, what? You mean..."

"Of course dear boy, isn't it obvious?"

"Of course..." Matthew murmured.

Then he sat back and stared into the distance at the Prussian general.

* * *

Gilbert walked up to Roderich and his Birdie with a smile, his gun slung over his shoulder. "You have a nice time?" He asked.

"Yes, it was... interesting." Matthew replied, not meeting his eyes.

"We're gonna go now, thanks Roddy." Gilbert said, not noticing.

"It was no problem. Matthew is delightful. I quite enjoyed it." Roderich said as he stood and began walking away.

"Come on, Birdie, let's go! I think you're gonna like this." Gilbert said, grinning and taking Matthew's hand to pull him up. "No running away now, alright?" He said with a toothy grin, althugh a small hint of seriousness could be seen in his eyes.

They walked through green fields and across barren dirt roads, Gilbert taking the lead and Matthew trailing along next to him, laughing and giggling at the Prussian's rambling and jokes.

Eventually they reached a gathering of trees and Gilbert came to a halt in front of them.

"You ready to see this, Birdie?" He asked.

Matthew nodded. Gilbert grasped his Birdie's hand and led him through the trees.

Suddenly, Matthew was standing in an amazingly beautiful, emerald meadow full of delicate, bright yellow and scarlet flowers. Next to the meadow lay a breath-takingly aqua blue lake, glittering in the late August sun.

He gasped. "Oh, mon Dieu, Gilbert, this is beautiful!" He said, beaming.

"You like it then?" Gilbert chuckled. "That's awesome! I brought a picnic, come one, let's go find an awesome place to sit."

* * *

"You just fold it over like this-"

"This is so unawesomely impossible!"

"It's easy, really-"

"You are obviously employing some sort of magic with which to make these infernal things!"

"They're just daisy chains, really, Gilbert..."

"They're evil and unawesome and I hate them!"

Matthew sighed as the flowers Gilbert had been attempting to braid were ripped to shreds and thrown into the wind. The poor flowers...

* * *

After a long while of eating, talking, laughing, and Gilbert once again trying desperately tring to make a daisy chain and once again failing miserably, Gilbert announced that he wanted to go swimming.

"Come on, Birdie!"

"But..."

"Come on, lighten up! It'll be fun!" Gilbert said, tugging at Matthew's arm like a child.

"O-okay!" Matthew said .

"Awesome!" Gilbert exclaimed as he ran towards the lake, pulled off his shirt, and jumped in. Matthew slowly followed and smoothly dived into the lake with all the lithe grace of a ballerina dancer.

They splashed and raced through the water like children, stopping only when they became too tired to move. Then they dragged themselves onto the shore and lay side by side on the light blue blanket Gilbert had brought, letting the setting sun dry them.

Once they were both mostly dry, Matthew heard the blanket rustle as Gilbert sat up, and he followed suit.

They were sitting face to face now, Gilbert was no longer cracking jokes, Matthew no longer giggling. They looked into each other's eyes, violet on crimson, scarlet on lavender. Gilbert leaned in. Matthew closed his eyes. Their faces got closer and closer, and-

A shot rang out. A flock of birds flew up and away, out of the trees, and a blond man in a white beret and a green coat emerged from the trees.

They both pulled away sharply, Gilbert rubbing the back of his neck and Matthew blushing immensely, looking at the ground.

"Just hunting, carry on!"He called to Gilbert.

"R-right, Vash, have a good one!" Gilbert called back.

"Well, I, uh, guess we'd better get going." He said, turning away to fold up the blanket.

"Right. Yeah. Let's go." Matthew began packing up their stuff too, and they walked back through the landscapes of Prussia, Gilbert succeeding in filling the awkward silence that had reigned for a while. Things seemed mostly back to normal, but neither could forget that one moment when their lips were only centimeters apart...

* * *

They were back in Gilbert's tent, night had fallen and since Gilbert had caught Matthew yawning, they were gong to bed. Matthew lay curled up in the sheets quietly, and there was a creak of bedsprings as Gilbert climbed on and threw an arm around Matthew's shoulder.

He sighed in content. "Night, Birdie."

"Good night, Gilbert." Matthew said in his soft voice as he lay his head beside the Prussian's arm.

This was it. He was leaving tonight, before this got anymore out of hand. He didn't want to, as a very loud voice in the back of his head kept telling him, but he had to. Besides, being with Gilbert... it scared him, in a way. It made him feel... different. Not in a bad way, definitely not. On the contrary, it made him feel amazing, if a bit nervous.

But he had never felt this way before, and he didn't think he was supposed to, at least not with the enemy! And a general, no less! Not just a low-ranked soldier, but one of the main leaders of the enemy forces! If Alfred found out, if Arthur found out what he'd been doing all this time, making daisy chans and swimming and sleeping with Gilbert Beilschmidt, we didn't even want to think about what they'd do.

Probably hunt Gilbert to the ends of the earth and then castrate him before killing him horribly. Probably also lock Matthew in the house for the rest of his life so no one could mess with their "poor little baby brother". He'd have to remind himself to think up a story explaining what had taken him so long when he was closer to home.

He did secretly wish though, somewhere in his heart, that he and Gilbert hadn't been interrupted, and that whatever was going to happen had happened. But the reality was that it hadn't. And now he had to leave before he dug himself any deeper into this well of confusion.

He lay there in the dark, thinking and trying to ingrain Gilbert's face, his last moments with him in his mind. At last, or maybe all too soon, Gilbert's breathing slowed and became even, and he started snoring softly. It was time.

Matthew slowly, carefully, cautiously rose from his spot, gently lifted Gilbert's arm from around his shoulder, and set it down on the bed.

The Canadian then reached into his shoe and pulled out the scalpel he'd snatched from Roderich's medical supplies when he had left him alone for a few minutes. He had thought it wuld come in handy, and he was right.

Now all he had to do was drive the thing through Gilbert's heart. He gripped the gleaming object and held it over the sleeping general's heart.

He lifted his hand and brought the scalpel down forcefully.

But not through Gilbert's heart. He couldn't do it. The scalpel cut harmlessly through a few bedsheets and Matthew let go of it, falling to his knees.

He just couldn't do it. No matter how much he wanted to carry out his mission and make his brothers proud of him, he just couldn't kill one of the few people that had ever noticed him, especially this one. The one that hadn't forgotten him in all the time they'd known each other, that had saved him from the man that had hurt him, that had taken him to the beautiful lake, where they had almost kissed.

Gilbert may have scared the hell out of him, but not in a bad way. He couldn't do it. He just couldn't.

He rose. He may not have been able to carry out the first part of the plan, but he was still going through with the second part. He was getting out of there. It saddened him a bit to go, but maybe one day, when this stupid war was over and Matthe had had time to think, they'd meet again.

He hoped so.

Matthew quickly crossed the room and donned a random jacket from the coat hanger. Then he slowly walked to the exit. He took one last look at the sleeping form of the powerful general that had captured him, the elusive assassin, and the silently slipped into the black oblivion of night.

* * *

**And once again, that's that, hope you liked it, please review cause reviews make me super awesomely happy. :D And sorry if there's typos, it's late and I'm tired... There was something else I was gonna say, but I forgot. -.-**

**~Potter-chan**


	9. Chapter 9

**I don't even know. I don't like it. But I hope you guys do, maybe I just don't like it cause it's super late and I just want to sleep. Anyway, if you don't like it, next one will be better, hopefully~ :)**

* * *

Gilbert shifted under his covers, his arm seeking out his Birdie's warmth, but finding only the textured material of the sheets.

"Birdie?"

No answer.

"Birdie?" He said, louder this time.

Still no answer. He groaned and cracked his eyes open, turning to look for his elusive Canadian.

He wasn't there.

Gilbert rolled out of bed and stood barefoot on the cold ground. He took a step forward and his foot touched something cold. It was a blade. A scalpel, to be exact. But it hadn't been there when they'd went to bed. What the hell had happened?

He looked around the tent quickly, and, not seeing his Birdie anywhere inside, donned a pair of boots and a light coat, and stepped into outside. He searched the entire grounds of his camp, but found no evidence and no Birdie.

"Sheiße!"

Where the hell was he? There were only two possibilities: He had been taken, or he had left.

Gilbert couldn't decide which was worse.

* * *

He had gathered up a group of his best, most trustworthy soldiers, and they were speeding through the darkness towards the nearest town, where it was only logical for anyone leaving his camp to go.

They had heard some footsteps and a small crash a little ways away, and had been following the small sounds of feet through the woods, slowly but steadily gaining speed. It seemed he had heard them, too, and was now making an effort to stay silent, as they hadn't heard anything for a while.

Gilbert was getting tired of this. He suddenly surged forward and crashed through the trees. There was a surprised gasp and a crash, and Gilbrt stepped into a clearing to see _him_ sprawled on the ground, flat on his face beside a tree.

* * *

As Gilbert stepped closer to Matthew, he began struggling to get up. He managed to stand and turned to run away, but was only able to take about three unsteady steps before a hand grabbed his shoulder and roughly spun him around to come face to face with furious red eyes.

"Going somewhere?" Gilbert growled, catching his wrists in an iron grip. "I thought I told you you couldn't escape me."

Mathew whimpered and tried to pull away, but Gilbert was having none of it.

"You can't escape me."

Matthew stared at Gilbert quietly, breathing hard. Gilbert had found him. And he was mad.

The terrifying look on Gilbert's face aside, Matthew was actually kind of glad to be with Gilbert again. As pathetic as it was, he'd actually kind of missed the Prussian in the hour or so he'd been gone. The lack of idle chatter and overuse of the word 'awesome' was unsettling.

He wished he could just stop running and go back with Gilbert right then, but he'd started this, and he was going to finish it. Well, he was going to try, at least.

He jerked his knee up and kneed him in the stomach. Gilbert let out a grunt of pain and doubled over, and Matthew wrenched his arms out of his grip, and darted into the woods again, nearly tripping over his own feet.

Behind him in the distance, he heard Gilbert call out in German, and seconds later the sounds of heavy feet trampling through the woods after him could be heard. Matthew ran faster.

The footsteps came closer and closer. Matthew ran as fast as he cold, but it seemed Gilbert and his men were faster. It was useless, but he didn't stop. He'd keep running even if it was pointless. He wasn't the type to give up that easliy. He knew he'd be caught, but he wanted to get as far as possible before he was taken back.

Seconds later, they were upon him.

A rough hand connected with his back, and he collapsed on the hard ground on his hands and knees, panting. A group of soldiers surrounded him, swords drawn and at his neck. He froze. The soldiers stared at him with blank faces while the swords gleamed menacingly at him.

Then Gilbert slowly strode into his line of vision. Matthew's breath caught. Gilbert's eyes were narrowed and his mouth was pressed into a hard line. They stared at each other, Matthew gazing up at him with a look of resignation, tinged with both fear and happiness. Gilbert's face was hard but blank, his exact emotions unknown to all but him, as he stared down at Matthew.

They held each other's gaze for a full minute before Gilbert, without taking his eyes off his captive, spoke an order, and Matthew sensed a soldier step up behind him. His wrists were grabbed and roughly pulled behing his back, and he didn't struggle when coarse rope was wrapped around them and pulled tight.

Only then were the swords withdrawn, and he was hauled to his feet. Gilbert's gaze turned away from him, and he started off into the forest without a word. Matthe hung his head. Did Gilbert hate him now? He didn't think him leaving would hurt Gilbert as much as it did, but it must have hurt him a lot, cause Gilbert had looked really angry. He didn't understand it...

The soldier who had gotten him to his feet shoved him forward. Matthew winced as his still-healing shoulder was jostled.

"Walk." He ordered in heavily accented English. Not having much of a choice, Matthew took a step and began the walk back to his once-again prison, flanked by soldiers on either side.

* * *

Gilbert stalked through the forest, deep in thought. Thoughts about _him_, obviously. He'd run away from him. He'd left him. He'd let him sleep with him in his bed, dammit, and he'd just up and left when the first -opportunity arose!

Gilbert kicked at a rock. How could he have been so stupid? He knew he was the enemy, he knew they were on different side, and yet he'd trusted him. And the whole time, he'd just been using his big lilac eyes and shy smile to play him for a fool.

He couldn't believe it. Had it all been fake? Even that moment at the lake? He shook his head. He shouldn't think about that anymore. He wouldn't.

_Gott verdammt, _how could he have been so stupid? He was done with this unawesome shit. Done with him. He wasn't going to kill him, no, he wouldn't be able to bring himself to do it, even considering the circumstances.

But from now on, he was a prisoner again. Just a prisoner. Nothing more. No contact besides what was necessary, no communication besides interrogations.

No matter how much it hurt his betrayed heart.

* * *

**Yeah, so, this chapter is mostly emotions and stuff, which is pretty much what the whole point of me having Mattie run away was, to create kind-of-angsty-I-don't-know-what-to-call-it emotions. :D Also, do you guys think my chapter endings are good? Cause that's always my favorite part to write, and I like to think it's the best part... Yeah, I don't know what I'm talking about, it's REALLY late. I promise more stuff will start happening soon!**

**~Potter-chan 3**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey guys! So, here's another chapter... this thing is gonna be long... O.o** **So yeah, hope you like this chapter! And if Roderich is OOC in this, I'm terribly sorry! D: I haven't read very many fics with him, don't really know how I would write him... I'll hopefully do better with the other characters that pop up later though, cause I've read a lot of fics with them. :D **

**Also, OHMYGOD, LaBlanc made a fanart for this! Thank you so much dude, I love you! You guys should totally go check it out:**

** whitemaid .deviantart gallery/#/ d5k540t (You have to add the thing with the 'h' and the 't's and the 'p', cause FF won't let me put it. -.-)**

**Take out the spaces and stuff; you know the drill. Siriusly though, go look at it. Pretty please? **

* * *

Once they were back at the camp, Matthew was led past Gilbert's tent, and towards another in the distance. Matthew sighed. He had been afraid of that. Gilbert was so mad that he didn't even want to see him anymore.

As the neared their destination, he saw that it was the medical tent. At least he'd have a friendly face around, then. Roderich had seemed nice, if slightly distant the other times Matthew had talked to him.

As they stepped through the entrance, though, a sense of hopelessness washed over him. He hadn't escaped, Gilbert now hated him, he was a prisoner again, and he doubted anyone was coming for him. And he knew that once he was inside that tent, the only way he would be getting out was in chains. Gilbert wouldn't let him escape a second time.

Matthew was pushed to the ground, and his wrists were bound to another support pole as he sat unmovingly. He hissed as his arm was shaken. The bandages had come loose in the chase and his capture, and it had started bleeding again. There were bits of dirt and leaves stuck in it. It was not a pleasant sight.

The soldiers checked the ropes one last time, and then turned and left without a word. It was still the middle of the night, and the events of the night, as well as the day, had tired him out.

His eyelids were drooping and his head was leaning when he heard voices outside and his eyes snapped open again, much to his chagrin. Roderich stepped in, looking as though he had just been pushed out of bed and onto the ground. Knowing Gilbert, that was probably the case. He tripped over the leg of a table and stumbled, before reaching Matthew.

He stopped in front of him, and his eyes became more alert as he recognised that there was a person in front if him.

"Matthew." He said sternly.

"Um... Hey Roderich." Matthew said quietly. He had thought that Roderich might turn out to be sympathetic to him, but it seemed right then as though he was about to get lectured.

"What were you thinking?" Roderich exploded. Yep, Matthew was right. Lecture time.

"How could you do that? Why would you do that? Gilbert trusted you! He trusted you, and you betrayed him. He saved you from that horrid man that attacked you, he untied you, he let you sleep in his bed! Do you think he would do that for just anyone?"

Roderich stopped abruptly, breathing deeply to calm himself down. Then he noticed Matthew's bloody arm, and the disapproving look on his face returned.

"And just look what you've done to your arm! It's a mess, you've probably gotten it infected!" He exclaimed, rushing to his medical tent.

Matthew sighed as Roderich began cleaning and fussing over his wound.

"I'm sorry." He said wearily.

* * *

After Matthew's arm had been fixed, and Roderich had left, Matthew immediately fell into a feverish, uneasy sleep.

_The mist curled around him, twisting and floating in various colors and shapes._

_Gilbert and Matthew were back at the lake. The soft golden sunlight bathed everything around them in pale yellow light, making the yellow flowers surrounding them even more beautiful._

_They were leaning towards each other, about to kiss, just like last time, but this time there were no interruptions._

_They came together, the slight pressure of lips on lips; soft and warm and perfect. Gilbert's hands went to the Canadian's face, and Matthew reached up to tangle his fingers in Gilbert's hair._

_Then the need for air forced them to part, and they sat there, looking into each other's eyes. Immense, complete serenity exuded from the pair as Matthew sighed contentedly._

The scene changed.

_Matthew was standing in the middle of Arthur and Francis's living room. He was alone. But then, gradually, soft colors and lights appeared. He could make out the hazy forms of people, which sharpened slightly as everything came more into focus._

_The party was a wild, joyful one, with loud music and people, laughing, dancing, and doing generally crazy things. But it was like the ghost of a party, the colors and sounds dimmed and muted. Like Matthew was the only real thing there._

_He walked around, looking at the people, hearing the whispers of laughter and watching people enjoy their lives, wrapped up in the moment. Three obnoxiously loud men sat at a table, drinking beer, while a couple made out in a corner, and countless others danced around them, oblivious._

_Then, the party abruptly erupted into new being, the colors brightening dramatically, almost comically, as the people laughed and danced on. _

_Matthew looked down at his hands, and saw that they were growing lighter, pale, almost becoming see-through. In fact, his whole body was becoming lighter. Of course, under normal circumstances, this would be worrying, but for some reason, in his current state, it wasn't alarming in the least. It was just an accepted fact._

_He was fading away. Now he was the ghostly prescence in the middle of the party that was reality. _

_As Matthew looked on, he began to notice individual people. He saw everyone there. Everyone he knew, at least. There was Al, Arthur, Francis, Miguel and Lars, and then there were all the people Matthew knew, neighbors and former teachers and his brother's friends, people he knew but who didn't know him._

_All were going on with their lives and with the party, while Matthew stood in the middle, alone. As always._

The scene shifted again.

_It was dark and murky. He was... in a lake. He gasped as he realized this, and his mouth flooded with water. He pancked and began flailing wildly. He had to get to the surface!_

_He looked up and saw a hazy vision of light. As his eyes adjusted, he could just make out the shape of a human figure kneeling by the edge of the lake._

_Getting his bearings, he began swimming upwards towards the person. As he got closer, he could see silvery hair, red eyes, and a pale hand reaching down into the water towards him. _

_Gilbert. Thank god. He just had to get to Gilbert._

_The lack of air was starting to get to him, and he was flailing even more desperately to reach the surface as his lungs burned, starved for air. Another few feet and he could hear Gilbert calling his name frantically, and see the worried look on his face._

_Just a little closer..._

_He was almost there..._

_He reached his hand up towards Gilbert's already outstretched one, and was about to grab it when he felt a soft tug on his ankle. And then another, stronger one, and another, and another, and Matthew was being dragged down, down._

_He was powerless as he was engulfed in the suffocatingly black depths of the lake. The last thing he heard was Gilbert calling his name._

_"Matthew!"_

"Gilbert!"

Matthew screamed, jerking forward as much as the rope tethering his wrists to the iron pole would allow. Then, realizing where he was, his body sagged, and he breathed in deeply, trying to calm himself. Just a dream.

Speak of the devil, and he will come. As if on cue, the entrance of the tent swung open, and Gilbert stepped in, the same blank mask over his face.

* * *

**Hope you guys liked it, sorry there was no big confrontation or whatever, but once again, my brain came up with this. Hope you guys liked the kiss scene though, I hope that made up for it. I felt so awkward writing it; I don't know how people kiss! I mean, I've read kisses, but I've never kissed anyone, and it's not like I study how people write kiss scenes! Also, I came up for an awesome Superhero/Supervillain PruCan AU when my Writing teacher was teaching us about the Hero's Journey. Dunno if I'll be able to write it; but I'm not even going to attempt til this fic is done... Anyway, hope you like it~**

**~Potter-chan 3**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey guys! So hopefully, I'm actually going to post 2 chapters this weekend, because this one is super short, and I would feel terrible if I left you with such a short chapter. So never fear, chapter 12 will hopefully be up Sunday night like usual. Hopefully. But I have a lot of homework, so no guarantees. But I'll try my best. Also, I would like for it to be known that I don't actually speak French or German, I'm using Google translate, so I'm sorry if I screw up those parts. Although if I ever write a fic with Turkey, no Google translate needed. :P Also, I don't really know much about militaries and such either, so if something is inaccurate, I'm sorry about that too, feel free to PM me and correct me.**

* * *

Alfred yawned and stretched as sunlight flooded through his window, slowly nudging him awake. He got dressed, tripped over something he could have sworn was a invisible rock lying in the hallway, and made his way downstairs.

As he descended the stairs to the kitchen, the smell of food cooking hit him in the face. He walking into the kitchen to find Francis at the stove, frying eggs and making crepes at the same time.

"Morning, Frenchie."

"Ah, good morning, Alfred." Francis said, turning, as he crossed the room to set a plate full of food at Alfred's place.

"Where's Eyebrows?" Alfred asked, hoping Arthur hadn't been anywhere near the food. If he had, the food automatically became inedible, and Alfred was hungry.

"He is still upstairs. He will be down soon." Just then, said Englishman's footsteps could be heard lightly coming down the stairs.

Seconds later, he appeared into view. He strode into the kitchen and went over to Francis, who put an arm around him and kissed him on the lips. Then he drew back and put his mouth to Arthur ear, and whispered,

"_Bonjour, mon cher._"

Arthur blushed and quickly walked back to his seat, muttering a 'thank you' to Francis as he set a plate in front of him.

Having served everyone, Francis then sat down with his own plate. Alfred began eating ravenously, before he felt something start nudging his leg insistently. He looked down and saw a cute little polar bear looking up at him.

He stared at it in confusion for a minute, before remembering why there was a dwarf polar bear residing in Arthur's house.

"Oh, hey Kumajirou! You want some food?'

The little bear nodded, and Alfred plucked a piece of bacon off his plate, dangling it in front of the bear, who snatched it away and devoured it.

"Mattie's bear is so cool!" He exclaimed. "Can I have one, too?"

Arthur and Francis exchanged glances.

"When hell freezes over!" Arthur cried.

"Never, mon ami." Francis said. "Not in a million years."

"Awww, but-"

"NO."

"No fair." Alfred pouted. "Mattie has one, and- Hey, where is Mattie anyway?"

"What? Who's... Oh, right, Matthew. Isn't he on a trip somewhere or something of the sort?" Arthur asked confusedly.

"Uh... wait, no, didn't you... You sent him on a mission!"

"Oh, yes, to take care of Gilbert Beilschmidt."

At Arthur's words, Francis froze.

"Y-you sent him to t-take care of Beilschmidt?"

"Yes, Francis, why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason, none at all." Francis said in a voice a few dozen octaves higher than normal, face turning chalk white.

Seemingly oblivious to the Frenchman's discmfort, Alfred and Arthur continued on with their conversation.

"So, dude, wasn't that like two weeks ago or something?"

"Yes, I think it was."

"But... but then he should be back by now! He should have been back by now!" Alfred said, standing up, his voice rising.

"Calm down, Alfred. I'm sure he's fine. He probably just got held up by something."

"No, something must have happened to him! I told you this was a bad idea! What if he got caught? What if Beilschmidt killed him? What if he was sent to a prison camp?! Or something... Something even worse! Like-"

"That's enough, Alfred. He's fine-"

"No! I'm the hero, I have to save him!"

By that time, Francis had already slipped out of his chair and silently disappeared down the hall.

_Dieu,_ what had he done? He'd betrayed his _petit Mathieu_, and now he was most likely captured or killed. His little Mathieu was dead, or a prisoner, or-

Or worse.

His blood ran cold, and he shivered. What would he do? What _could _he do?

He slumped against the wall, no longer possessing the will to stand.

What had he done?

He put his face in his hands.

"I'm sorry, Mathieu." He whispered.

"_Je suis désolé_."

"I'm so sorry."

* * *

**So, yeah, everyone's been asking about Mattie's family, so I thought I'd just put this chapter in a little earlier than expected.** **Thanks so much to everyone that reviewed, and thanks even more to everyone that reviewed with actual feedback. :P Those kind of reviews are awesome. :D There was something else I wanted to say, but I forgot. -.-**

**~Potter-chan**


	12. Chapter 12

******I'm almost to 100 reviews! Oh my god, I never thought that would happen! Thank you so much, you guys! :D I love you all. :D**

**I just want to say in advance: Please don't kill me! You need me! You need me to finish the story for you!**

**With that being said, please enjoy this chapter of The General and The Assassin (Or, you know, get pissed and break stuff. That might happen too).**

* * *

Gilbert stepped into the tent, the same blank mask over his face. His black boots crushed tiny flowers and blades of grass as he walked, and each step he took was somehow overflowing with purpose and yet completely void of it at the same time.

"Why were you screaming?" He asked, no inflection in his voice.

"I, uh, n-no reason." Matthew replied timidly.

"Hm." Gilbert walked over to Matthew and leaned down to his level.

"Now, you are going to tell me everything I want to know."

Matthew said nothing. He doubted there was anything he could say that would change the Prussian's mind.

Gilbert grabbed a chair from where it sat at a desk, pulled it over to Matthew and planted himself in it.

Then came the questions.

"Who sent you?"

Matthew said nothing, instead choosing to silently stare at his captor.

"What are they planning?"

"Do they have spies in my army?"

"Are they after my brother as well?"

_"ANSWER ME, DAMMIT!"_

But Matthew said nothing, continuing to simply stare, flickers of sadness and guilt reflecting in his eyes.

Gilbert stood frustratedly. Apparently he wasn't as weak as Gilbert had thought.

He stepped forward and untied Matthew's hands from the pole, holding them by the fingers in his iron grip as Matthew was shifted into a kneeling position before him. He grabbed the Canadian's little finger on his left hand and grasped it firmly.

"Last chance." He said warningly.

Still Matthew was silent, in contrast to the defiant look in his eyes, which spoke volumes. In contrast to that, he was shivering, and his delicate hands, enclosed on Gilbert's rough ones, were shaking.

Gilbert let out a breath. With a great jerk, he pulled Matthew's finger backwards, and there was a sickening, horrible _SNAP _as his finger broke.

Matthew gave a pitiful cry of pain and tried to pull away from Gilbert and slump to the ground as a tidal wave of burning pain swept up his arm, but the Prussian still held him by the hands.

Gilbert asked his questions again.

"Who sent you?"

"What are they planning?"

"Do they have spies in my army?"

"Are they after my brother also?"

Yet Matthew didn't say a word, his only reply a defiant look and his pained, panting breaths.

Gilbert's face hardened.

_Snap!_

Index finger.

_Snap!_

Middle finger.

_SNAP._

Thumb.

It was a chilling, dull, hollow sound. That one was undeniably the most painful. Matthew's screams could be heard all the way to Vash's cabin, which was carefully situated in the middle of nowhere.

Four of Matthew's fingers hung limply from his hand, blood trickling slowly down two of them. Tears brimmed in his eyes while others spilled over onto his cheeks as he looked up at Gilbert.

Then Gilbert took Matthew's ring finger, his last good finger on his left hand, into his own. Matthew sniffled and braced himself. His eyes clenched shut as he tried to ready himself for Gilbert to break the last finger, for more terrible pain to come and for his left hand to be rendered entirely useless.

But the pain didn't come.

He tentatively cracked his eyes open, and was met with the sight of Gilbert just standing there, staring at his ring finger as though transfixed by it. When Gilbert noticed Matthew looking at him, he snapped out of his trance and glared at Matthew fiercely, before another, unrecognizable emotion entered his eyes.

He dragged Matthew back to the pole and retied him to it, careful to avoid his broken fingers. Matthew slumped exhaustedly against it, whimpering in pain.

Then Gilbert stood and sped out.

* * *

Gilbert stalked through camp, glaring daggers at anyone that was stupid enough to meet his eyes. He found Roderich talking to a soldier and grabbed his shoulder.

He turned around.

"Gilbert?"

"Go... go fix him up."

"I-what?"

"Go help him. _Bitte_."

"Alright." Roderich said, knowing who he was talking about, and far too used to Gilbert's requests that made sense to no one besides him to question it.

"But Gilbert-" Roderich began again, but said Prussian was already walking away, or running, rather.

* * *

Gilbert ran until he reached the forest. He'd liked that forest ever since they're set up camp in the area, and it seemed like a good place to think. He sat down on a tree stump in the bright morning light softened by the trees.

He... what had he done? How could he have done that? He hurt Matthew. But... but he deserved it, didn't he? For betraying him? He had left him, after he had trusted him... But the Canadian hadn't killed him when he had the chance. Gilbert had found the scalpel, after all, and he wasn't stupid, he knew what it meant. He knew Matthew could have killed him if he had wanted to.

But he had still betrayed him, and, as much as Gilbert hated to admit it, even to himself, it hurt. And when he had walked into that tent... he hadn't meant to hurt him like that, but when he saw him, he just... he lost control. His anger overwhelmed him. He hadn't meant to do it! And then when he had seen that Matthew was crying... It made his chest hurt in some weird, unnatural way. What was that?

He didn't know what to think anymore. He was so confused. Why was this so unawesomely confusing?!

Gilbert's head hurt. He decided not to think anymore.

* * *

**I'm sorry! D: I need angst though, and violence, and this is just how it happened! And my friend said she wanted torture! I'm sorry, please don't hate me! I swear this thing has a happy, fluffy PruCan ending. Also, every time I wrote something about Mattie being tied to the pole, I kept thinking about Mattie being tied to Poland... O.O Anyway, if it sucks I'm sorry, I was really sick yesterday.**

**Bitte-Please**

**Again, if I accidentally did something wrong or something, I'm sorry...**

**~Potter-chan :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey, I'm back! Hope all the Americans had a good Thanksgiving! I don't celebrate it, but I certainly enjoyed the break from school. Didn't get any homework done though. :(**

**I did see Rise of the Guardians though! It was so awesome! :D I totally recommend you se it. And Jack Frost is so hot. :D Siriusly. Wow. I'm gonna cosplay him for a con in like a month. :D**

**So here's this chapter, hope you guys like it! It's not that eventful, but whatever. Oh, and in case I forgot to say it the first time, Mattie and Gil's thoughts are supposed to be confusing because they're confused, also, I dunno about you but I don't think in a straight line... My thoughts are everywhere. So, yeah. ^.^ Also, Lars is the Netherlands and Miguel is Cuba, in case I didn't say that yet.**

* * *

Roderich walked inside the tent, and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dimness that was in such sharp contrast to the blindingly bright sunshine outside. Gilbert must have forgotten to light a lamp before he left...

He walked over to a table and quickly lit a lamp before going over to Matthew, who had been silent the whole time.

"Matthew, boy, are you okay? Gilbert said you needed me."

Matthew raised his head to reveal pain filled eyes.

"My... my fingers..." He whispered. "Please..."

Puzzled, Roderich reached over and untied Matthew's hands from the pole so he could look at them. His eyes widened.

Matthew's fingers on his left hand were hanging limply, and congealing blood was slowly trailing down them. The unnatural angles they were bent at completed the gruesome picture.

"What... What happened, Matthew? Who did this to you?"

"G-gilbert. It was Gilbert." He said quietly.

"What?!" Roderich's eyes widened even more. "No. No, Gilbert wouldn't do that. Not to you."

The Canadian merely looked at him.

"_Mein gott_... I'll... go talk to him. He won't do this again. I promise."

"Th- thank you..." Matthew said sullenly, not meeting the doctor's eyes.

"Oh, come now," Roderich said, seeming to compose himself and noticing the dejected look on the blond's face. " It'll be alright. Gilbert will come to his senses soon." He said, trying to convince himself as much as the small blond in front of him

Roderich took Matthew to a table and sat him down while he began to work on his fingers. Matthew winced as the Austrian splinted them and wrapped them in bandages.

It hurt like all hell, but the pain in his heart was worse. The pain that Gilbert would do that to him, that he really cared so little for him now. But then, Matthew kind of felt like it was his fault, in a way.

Even though it was completely impractical, Gilbert had wanted him to stay, had trusted him to stay. And he had betrayed that trust.

He knew it was pretty much common sense that one would try to run away when captured by the enemy, to ensure one's own safety at the least. But Matthew's safety didn't matter. Matthew didn't matter, not as much as everyone else. That's just how it worked with him, he would always put himself second, after everyone else. And now that he had actually put himself first for once, it had come back to bite him in the ass. A little part of him actually felt like he deserved it, for hurting Gilbert.

The trust Gilbert had had in him, impractical -they were on different sides, and Matthew had a life and family back home- as it was, was still trust. Matthew felt terrible for breaking it. And confused. So confused. It was his duty to fight for his country, and he wanted to, he really did. So then, he should be hating Gilbert, should be trying to escape at every opportunity, should be fighting tooth and nail to escape like he normally would have been.

But in addition, or maybe, opposition, to his need to fight for his country, he also felt a strange attraction to Gilbert, something he couldn't quite place, and an odd desire to stay there with him. The two sides warring within him surged with new strength, and Matthew still couldn't tell which was winning.

Matthew's thoughts continued on in their fight for dominance for almost 2 days, in which he remained isolated and restrained in the medical tent, under Gilbert's orders. No one was to go in except for Roderich, and even then, the brown haired man wasn't to untie him except to check his fingers and let him eat and such.

Gilbert had also ordered Roderich to speak as little as possible to him, but Roderich had never followed Gilbert's more stupid orders before, and he wasn't about to start. So every time he came by the tent, he would attempt to make conversation with the quiet Canadian, but Matthew was never very welcoming of it, and so eventually Roderich just stopped trying.

* * *

At the end of the second day, just as the sun was setting and golden rays of light were bouncing off the walls of Mathew's tent, Roderich came in again. He walked up to Matthew and pulled out a chair, situating it in front of the blond before sitting delicately.

"Matthew."

"Yes?" He answered quietly.

"I'm not really supposed to tell you this, but I just though you'd want to know. We're currently no longer needed out here, so Gilbert and everyone under his command has been sent home!" He said happily.

"And you... you'll be going to Berlin with Gilbert." He said, becoming solemn. "And, um... yes. Well. I just thought you ought to know." He stood and walked out, his long coat swishing behind him.

Well, that was it. Matthew was fucked. He'd never...

No, he had to stay positive! Depending on Gilbert's security, there could still be a chance. Big city, big crowds to get lost in. Gilbert may have been able to see him out in the middle of nowhere with no people, but there was no way anyone would see him in a big city like Berlin. Even Gilbert.

He still hadn't decided what he was going to do yet, but he was currently leaning towards another escape attempt. He had blown it with Gilbert, blown their budding friendship to billions of betrayed pieces. And he knew that. And he just didn't think he'd be able to fix it. Not then, not that time. He'd just go back to Canada with his aching, confused heart and spend a few years figuring it all out. Or at least, he'd try.

* * *

Alfred was kneeling on the floor in front of his closet, squishing a few more things in his bag before zipping it closed and standing up. He had spend the past two days annoying the hell out of Arthur and Francis to the point where Arthur had finally said that if Al was so worried, then for God's sake he should just go and get Matthew. Or Marcus, or whatever his name was.

Upon hearing this, Francis became more alive-looking than he had for the past few days in which he'd been secretly wallowing in depression, and announced that he was going too. Of course, since Arthur didn't trust Alfred and Francis to go anywhere together without him (for fear of all the idiotic things they'd do, like that one time with the duck, the cabbage, the tequila and that Supreme Court Justice...), he was obliged to go as well.

So, half a day, a few packed duffle bags, and a borrowed private jet later, Alfred was ready to go get his brother.

Just then, the doorbell rang. "I'll get it!" He yelled, hefting his bag and dashing downstairs. He screeched to a halt in front of the door and wrenched it open, a giant smile on his face.

The smiled lessened slightly when he saw who was at the door. "Oh, it's you two. What do you want?" He said, scowling.

"We haven't seen Mathew in like three weeks, and he's not answering his phone! What did you do to him, you American bastard?" Miguel asserted angrily.

"What? I didn't do anything to him, it's not my fault! If this was anyone's fault, it's yours!"

"Huh? So something did happen to him?" Lars asked, eyebrow raised.

"Uh... maybe..." Alfred replied, then went from embarrassed to pissed. "Dammit Lars, mind your own business! Don't you have some pot you should be smoking right now or something?"

Lars growled. "You-" He started forward before a voice from inside interrupted him.

"Alfred? A disembodied voice with a French accent called out, "Who is at the door?" Seconds later, the owner of said voice appeared next to Alfred at the door. Behind him came Arthur, who stepped between Lars and Alfred.

"What's going on here?"

"What happened to Matteo?" Miguel asked him frustratedly.

"Oh. Um, well, you see..."

* * *

After Arthur had awkwardly explained the situation to the two newcomers (earning him a multitude of shocked, worried, and "This is your fault" looks), there was silence for a few seconds. Then:

"We're coming, too."

What?" Arthur looked at Lars quizzically.

"We're his best friends."

"And we're his family." Alfred shot at him.

"Some family." Miguel scoffed. "You bastards don't even remember that he exists half the time, much less his name!"

"We're more of a family to him than you are sometimes." Lars said quietly. "Yet, he still looks up to you, and loves you. And you just want to get him back, right? We just want him back too."

Arthur, Alfred and Francis all hung their heads at the truth in the Dutchman's words. Then Arthur lifted his head up.

"Alright. Pack your things and meet us at the airport in exactly two hours or we're leaving without you."

"Alright. Miguel said, smiling, while Lars nodded. The blonde stood and left, and so did the Cuban, who paused for a second to glare at his best friend's twin.

* * *

"Gilbert, won't you at least talk to him? Just apologise?"

"No." The Prussian said stubbornly, his face buried in a pillow as he lay face down on his bed.

"And why on earth not?" Roderich asked exasperatedly.

"Because."

"That's not an answer!"

"It is now. BECAUSE. Now go away!" Gilbert groaned.

Roderich sighed and turned to walk out, then stopped.

"He's awfully lonely, you know."

Then he continued on his way out.

Gilbert hated everything.

* * *

**So... there's that. Hope it didn't suck too much, sorry if it did. Oh, and Lars doesn't smoke pot or do drugs or whatever in this fic, Al was just being stupid when he said that. Hope that last part with Gil made sense, I just randomly added it and I'm tired.****Don't want to go to school tomorrow. Wish I could just write fanfiction to graduate. Also, trying to summon the patience to watch Sherlock (I can't sit still for the hour and a half it takes to watch an episode of it) since it sounds so cool, you guys think it's worth it?**

**And now leaving off personal pronouns... Tired. Going to bed.**

**~Potter-chan :D**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey guys! I feel like this chapter is the worst yet, but nothing really happens, so I suppose it doesn't really matter... Sorry I gave you practically nothing this week, but at least next chapter Mattie meets Feli and Luddy~! :D So next chapter will actually have things happening, sorry this one didn't. **

**And I watched the first 3 episodes of Sherlock... ASDFFGHJKIUYTRESDFGHGFDSDFGH JYTREWSDF OH MY GOD.** **In love. ****I kinda don't want to watch the last episode though, cause I know when I do I'll go into depression hibernation and then die.**

* * *

Matthew woke up to a beam of sunshine on his face. He cracked an eye open, and immediately closed it as the dazzling light assaulted him. He then cautiously opened both of them, only to discover that the light was gone, replaced by a pair of legs.

He slowly looked up to see Gilbert's still stoic face staring down at him. He reached over Matthew to untie his wrists from the pole, leaning close enough to him that their faces were only inches apart. Matthew cautiously looked into Gilbert's eyes, resignedly expecting to find the same hard, emotionless expression on his face, but instead was greeted with Gilbert looking straight at him with an uncomfortable awkwardness, tinged with a bit of something else, something Matthew couldn't place. And was... was Gilbert blushing? Not much, but Matthew was fairly certain he could see a bit of pink tinging the albino's cheeks.

Then Matthew felt a sudden tug as his wrists were released, only to be caught in Gilbert's strong and calloused hands a second later. He was pulled to his feet, and the warm presence in front of him withdrew, maybe a bit to quickly. His wrists were retied in front of him, and he was spun around to face the exit.

"Walk."

He walked.

A hand was placed on him back, seeming to convey Gilbert's unspoken message of "Run, and I'll catch you. You're not getting away from me this time" with just the pressure of his hand against Matthew's back to convey the warning.

They walked outside, into the sunlight and fresh air that Matthew had had only glimpses of for the past few days. Gilbert led him past countless soldiers in the same Prussian blue, all of which were in the process of packing everything up. They passed Roderich, who looked over and smiled. Matthew attempted to stop and talk to him but a push from behind that nearly sent him sprawling told him Gilbert did not much like that idea.

"Please, can I just go say goodbye to Roderich?" He asked quietly.

Gilbert paused.

"..."

"Please?" He wanted to at least say goodbye to the Austrian who had helped him so much in the time he had been there.

"...three minutes."

Matthew let out a breath and slowly walked over to where Roderich stood.

"Hello, Matthew."

"Hi, Roderich."

"I assume you are leaving now?"

"I guess so..."

"Then, I wish you the best of luck."

Matthew sighed.

"But you will not need it! You will be fine, alright? Everything will be fine. And Elizabeta and I will come visit soon, okay?"

"Alright."

"Good."

"And Roderich?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you. For everything."

Roderich smiled. "My pleasure, dear boy." He clasped Matthew's hands. "Now go. You'll be fine."

Matthew smiled a last time at Roderich, and walked back towards Gilbert, who greeted him with an odd look on him face, something possibly akin to guilt.

The Canadian nodded and Gilbert turned him around and put a hand on his shoulder. They walked through the maze of soldiers and tents until Gilbert finally stopped him at a clearing where a number of unmarked black trucks sat, waiting.

Some were sitting unused, but others were being packed with folded-up tents and soldiers' possessions. They went up to one that had a few of Gilbert's things in it, Matthew recognised them from his tent.

Strong arms wrapped around his waist and he jumped slightly.

"A-ah!"

"Calm down, it's just me." Gilbert's voice said from behind him.

Matthew was lifted up and he blushed a bit despite everything at the close proximity before his feet hit the floor of the truck as Gilbert set him down gently.

Gilbert then hopped up after him and sat him on a bench that had been built into the truck. His hands were fastened to the sidebar (Gilbert was once again quite careful not to touch his fingers), and the Prussian turned with an awkward nod of the head and closed the door shut behind him.

It was not terribly dark in the back of the truck, as there were windows. The windows were barred, of course, Gilbert couldn't have his prisoner running off a second time. But they let the light in, and for that Matthew was grateful.

There was also a window that looked into the cab of the truck, so the driver could look back and see everything in the truck, and anyone in the truck could see the driver's head. Hmm, that was interesting.

Then Matthew saw a silver head get into the driver's seat, and felt the engine rumble as it roared to life.

* * *

The ride to Berlin was rather uneventful, they only stopped once so Gilbert could eat and let Matthew eat. After that Gilbert had covered the windows, muttering something about Matthew not being allowed to see where they were going.

Then he noticed the uncomfortable look on Matthew's face at the prospect of being left in the dark, and he also became slightly uncomfortable.

"I, uh... It won't be for long, alright? You just can't see where we're going..." He trailed off lamely as Matthew nodded.

"Okay then, good." He said before hurrying out and closing the door behind him.

The door shut with a _clang, _and Matthew was plunged into darkness.

* * *

Matthew's eyes flew open as the truck lurched to a halt, not that it made much difference, as it was still pitch black. He heard a few voices talking that he couldn't place, and then silence for a few seconds.

Suddenly, the door of the truck flew open, and Matthew was blinded with light. He felt a pesence night in front of his face, and then a high-pitched voice with a possibly Italian accent exclaimed:

"Hello! I'm Feliciano, what's your name?"

* * *

**SmileyFacesSmile: Aw, thanks, that's sweet of you, but I promised myself I'd update once a week, and I'm trying to prove to myself I can do things on time, cause I always do everything late. It' s my fault for procrastinating anyway. -.- I hope the next part of the story meets your standards for good adventures. ^.^ And thanks, yeah, I'm still not sure exactly what's going to happen, but I am gonna try to get Roddy and Liz to come. And yeah, I can so see her doing that too. :D Thanks so much! :D**

**So... yeah. I want to ask if you guys can give me any constructive criticism? Like what I need to do more of, do less of, stuff like that... But please, be super gentle, I don't take criticism well. So... yeah... pretty uneventful this week...**

**~Potter-chan :D**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hey! So I'm baaack! I feel like it's been way more than a week since I last posted, but unfortunately that doesn't mean I have a longer than usual chapter... So apparently my chapters are too short? Well, I do post every week, and I do have other things to do, so if you guys want longer chapters, I'd have to have longer periods of time in between chapters so... if you guys want that, tell me? Could do that, I guess.**_  
_

**And if this chapter's not good, I'm sorry, I've just been kind of preoccupied lately. But don't worry, I'm not gonna abandon or anything. In fact if I ever do abandon or even post late, you all have my permission to yell at me and make me continue. Cause abandoning things is bad.**

**Also, asdfghjkljhgrewasdfghjjdsarg hjewtagnmjhsegtafghjjytrfgh Sherlock! Saw Reichenbach... In denial. No words for my feels.**

* * *

_"Hello! I'm Feliciano, what's your name?"_

"I- what?"

Oh, Matthew remembered now. This was Gilbert's brother's boyfriend, Feliciano. He blinked twice and waited for his eyes to adjust, and slowly the world came into focus.

A short, skinny brunette stared back at him, a wayward curl a bit like Matthew's own stuck out from his head. Feliciano looked at him expectantly, his face shining with joy at his new friend.

"Uh... Matthew. Nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too! Where are you from? Do they have pasta there? Do you like pasta? I love pasta! I love to make pasta for Ludwig too, even though he doesn't like it as much as me... Oh! Ludwig is my boyfriend if you didn't know, he's amazing! He's big and strong and tough, and he's smart, too! So what are you doing here? Do you know Gilly? Is he your friend?"

Matthew, slightly dumbfounded by the barrage of words, was speechless for a moment.

"Well, I, um..."

"But that doesn't matter now, you must come inside! I can show you how I make pasta, and we can eat it together!" Feliciano said, reaching for the ropes that bound Matthew's hands.

"Feliciano!" A deep voice shouted suddenly.

Feliciano drew back and turned around to find a large, blond German standing right behind him.

"Felicano, what are you doing?"

"I was going to take, ummm... Oh, yes! I was going to take Matteo inside so we could eat pasta!"

The man Matthew assumed was Ludwig sighed. "Feliciano, he is our prisoner, he is of the enemy. He is not here to be your friend, alright?"

"Awww." Feliciano pouted. "Okay Ludwig... But I am still going to make him pasta!" He cried, brightening. He dashed into the house.

Ludwig then turned his steely gaze on him, the loving twinkle that had been in his eyes as he looked at Feliciano disappearing completely.

"You. You are coming with me."

Footsteps crunched on the gravel a few feet away, and then Matthew heard Gilbert's voice call out in German from somewhere unseen by him.

"West! Where are you?"

"I'm here, bruder!" Ludwig called back.

Gilbert came into Matthew's line of vision.

"Oh..."

"This is your prisoner then?"

"Yes..."

"Alright, good. I'll take him to the basement." He grabbed Matthew's hands and detached them from the bar. Matthew hissed as his broken fingers were bent at painful angles. Gilbert had always been careful not to touch his broken fingers...

With his hand bound behind his back much too tightly, Ludwig stood him up and pushed him out of the truck. Matthew stumbled forward and the German jerked him back by his hands. Matthew whimpered as even more strain was put on his aching and once again bleeding fingers. Gilbert flinched, and his fists clenched slightly.

"I'll begin his interrogation tomorrow morning." Ludwig stated.

"Can't you, uh, wait a little while, bruder? Or let me do it instead?" Gilbert asked him tensely.

"There is no point in waiting, Gilbert, and judging by the boy's hand, you have already tried, and failed."

"But Ludwig-"

"I don't know why you seem so insistent on this, but let me remind you, we are now in Germany. Not Prussia. And in Germany, it is I who has the authority over you. And I am not going to change my mind unless you have a legitimate reason."

Gilbert's fists clenched even more and he stared at the ground.

"Right." He said. "Whatever."

Although his words deferred to his brother, his tone said that he was not going to let it go.

But the battle was, apparently, for another day. Gilbert stepped past Ludwig and into the truck to start moving his possessions inside, the _thump_ of his boots fading away as Ludwig began leading Matthew towards the house.

The stopped in front of the huge, elaborately carved front door and Ludwig pushed it open, leading him in through the foyer. They took a right turn down a hallway that seemed somehow different from the rest of the house. It as darker, for one, but there was also an air of just something... different.

There were only two doors in the hallway, one randomly situated off to the right. That door was slightly ajar. The other door stood at the very end of the hallway, and, cliche as it was, it did have a sort of ominous look about it. Ludwig stepped in front of Matthew and opened the door, then stepped back and pushed the shorter towards it.

Matthew stumbled a bit but didn't go forward. He really didn't want to go in there. He wasn't scared of the room, so much as what he knew would happen in there. And the only way he would come out, he was pretty sure, was battered, bruised, bleeding and in pain. It was similar to the feeling he had had before, but this was worse.

But he was inevitably overpowered by Ludwig, who simply pushed Matthew harder, and he pitched forward, not just stumbling, but falling face-first onto the cold, hard ground. His forehead hit first with a _crack_, and his eyes unfocused. His nose bent to the side, and bright red blood began gushing out from there as well as a cut on his temple, covering the ground with blood as well as splattering his glasses, the right lens of which had cracked.

He let out a small scream and then a groan of pain, and Ludwig hefted him up by his bound arms, scowling.

"Do not mess with me, _opfer_. It will only make things even more unpleasant for you than they are already going to be." And, stepping ver the small puddle of blood on the ground, Ludwig dragged the njured Canadian through the door and down the stairs. The inside of the basement was dark, but fairly clean and decently kept.

Matthew was taken to a spot just beside the furnace and his wrists were chained to a pipe behind him. He inwardly sighed. He was becoming accustomed to this.

Ludwig turned and made his way up the stairs in silence, and the door slammed behind him, plunging Matthew into total darkness.

But it was only so for about a minute, after which the door was unlocked with a small _click_, and flung open. A high voice filled the room.

"Matteo?" Are you down there? Can you hear me? It's so dark in here! Stay there, I'll go get a flashlight!"

Matthew almost chuckled a bit despite his pain. As if he could go anywhere.

A second later, a small crash came from out the door.

"Ve, it's okay! I just dropped the flashlight. But it's not broken, so everything's good!" He appeared in the doorway a second later, the flashlight illuminating his cheerful face. In his hands he was awkwardly balancing a bowl of pasta and the aforementioned flashlight.

He bounded down the stairs and plopped onto the ground in front of Matthew.

"Here!" He said as he reached over and unchained Matthew. He thrust a fork into his hand and pushed the bowl closer, then leaned back, an expectant look on his face.

"Um, alright..." Matthew said uncertainly. He slowly lifted the fork, trying to ignore the pain, and took a bite.

As he tried it, a small smile spread over his face. That pasta was so good it practically had healing powers. He was fairly certain his face felt at least a little bit better...

"Do you like it?"

"Yeah, it's amazing!"

"Yay!" Feliciano exclaimed happily.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOo

Just as Matthew was finishing his pasta to the sound of Feliciano's ramblings, they heard they heard Ludwig's deep voice reverberate through the house.

"FELI! Where are you? I need to ask you a question!"

"Oh! I have to go, I'll come back later though, I promise!"

He leaned forward to chain Matthew back to the pipe. As he stood up, he finally noticed the state of the blond's face for the first time. He gasped. "Oh, no!" What happened to your face, Matteo? This is terrible! But I can't help you now, I have to go to Ludwig! Hmmm... I know! I'll get Gilbert to help you!"

"I... what?"

"Ve, yeah! Gilly can help you!"

"No, really, it's alright. I'm sure Gilbert doesn't want to help me anyway-"

"Of course he does! I'll go get him!" And he sprinted out of the room.

* * *

**So yeah, there... There's most likely gonna be fluff in the next chapter, so I'm gonna need to call upon my writing buddies to help me make it cute and fluffy, cause I don't think I can do that...**

**The reason Gil is acting all OOC is cause he's like, experiencing a mix of emotions he doesn't normally- Love with guilt with anger with hurt. So yeah...**

**Opfer-(I'm not really sure, place I got this wasn't really clear) victim, moron, someone inferior.**

**To everyone that reviewed, I love you all! Seriously. So much. I'm sorry I can't reply to you all, but I can't... am I supposed to? It is like, FF etiquette to reply to all reviews and I'm being rude or something? **

**~Potter-chan**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hey! So... here's my failed attempt at fluff... or maybe it worked, I don't know... Enjoy! :D**

* * *

The door opened slowly and hesitantly as Matthew sat on the ground, nose throbbing and blood still trickling from the cut on his forehead. The beam of a flashlight made only a dark silhouette visible until the person was mostly down the stairs. Then Matthew began to make out silvery-white hair and pale skin, and red eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness.

"H-hello, Gilbert." Matthew said tentatively.

"...Hallo." He stepped towards him and shined the light over the small Canadian's face. There was a sharp intake of breath.

"Ludwig. _Gott verdammt!_" His fist shot out and hit the wall, leaving a loud thud which slowly dulled to a quiet ringing sound. Then that, too, quieted into nothing. If Matthew looked hard enough, he thought he might have been able to make out a small dent in the steel. Matthew didn't want to look hard though, it made his injuries hurt even more.

Gilbert kneeled beside Matthew and peered into his face, examining his injuries. "It was Ludwig, right?"

The awkward tension that had been permeating the air whenever they were around each other had mostly dispersed, at least for the moment, in favour of the more urgent matter at hand.

"Yeah, he pushed me... I'm alright though, really."

"What? No, you're not, you're bleeding! I'm going to kill West..." He growled. "I'm going to go get some stuff to fix you up, okay?"

"Okay..."

"I'll be fast, I promise." And Gilbert bolted up the stairs. Wow, he hadn't been kidding when he'd said he'd be fast...

A few seconds later, Gilbert burst back into the room, carrying various medical-looking things. He dumped them onto the ground in front of him.

"This is everything I could find. I think it'll work." He set to work, grabbing a damp cloth and cleaning Matthew's cut and scratches, gently wiping the blood away from his face.

Matthew's skin tingled under his touch, and he could feel a bit of heat creeping into his cheeks into a faint blush. As Matthew studied Gilbert, he though he might have been able to make out a light blush on the albino's face as well.

"I, uh, I'm not really good at this." He said as he pulled bandages out of a bag and began putting them on Matthew's wounds. "I usually have Roderich to do these things."

"Well, I think you did just fine." Matthew said in his usual quiet voice, a small smile on his face.

"Oh. Um, thanks." Gilbert said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"_Merci,_ Gilbert." Matthew said after a minute.

"No problem, kid." Gilbert said, grinning. Matthew smiled too as he caught a glimpse of the loud, cheerful man he had swum with at the lake, and attempted to teach to make daisy chains at the meadow.

"What about your fingers?" He asked. He reached over and untied Matthew's wrists.

The shorter one pulled his arms around in front of him and hugged them to his chest. He rubbed his wrists and then dropped them in his lap, shielding them from view. He sat with his legs crossed like a child.

"They're fine." He said quietly.

"Let me see." Gilbert prompted.

"No, really, they're fine." He insisted.

They really weren't, of course. Two of them had begun bleeding again, and one was bent in a way fingers definitely weren't supposed to bend, but Matthew didn't want Gilbert to see. He knew the Prussian would, though. There was no denying him for long.

"Matthew." Gilbert said sternly.

Matthew started a bit. That was the first time Gilbert had actually said his name since he had tried to run away. He supposed he had killed all hope of him ever calling him Birdie again, though.

Gilbert held out his hand. "Matthew..." He said again, warningly.

The Canadian sighed and placed his hand in Gilbert's.

There was another sharp intake of breath.

_"Scheiße!_ Don't... don't lie to me, Matthew. _Mein gott_, that looks bad. Why... why didn't you tell me? He asked, suddenly a bit hurt.

"It doesn't matter..."

"Like hell it doesn't matter!" Gilbert burst out.

"I-i'm sorry."

"What? No, there's no reason to be sorry! _Gott_, Matthew, don't you ever stand up for yourself?"

"No." Matthew replied flatly.

"Well why not?"

"Because it never works!" He yelled. "I try and I try, and nothing changes! Everyone still walks all over me. Everyone still forgets me. So there's no point." He said, dropping his voice back down to his usual quiet tone.

Gilbert, who had been tending to Matthew's fingers the whole time, tied the last bandage and stood up.

"I told you, Matthew." He said, looking into the blond's eyes.

"I won't ever forget you."

He turned and walked back up the stairs. The door closed behind him with a gentle _click._

* * *

Gilbert walked down the hallway to his room slowly, lost in thought. _Gott, _what the hell?! Talk about mixed signals. He didn't know much about relationships, but he was pretty sure their situation was abnormal. He wished they had met under different circumstances, where they weren't enemies.

He had pretty much realized his feeling for Matthew by then, but he was still a bit angry at him. It was getting harder by the day to stay that way, though. Especially when the blond looked up at him with his big violet eyes, all adorable like that. He wondered if Matthew knew what he did to the Prussian, how he made him feel.

He wondered if he could possibly make Matthew feel the same way. The boy was so quiet, it was hard to tell. He could, however, see that there was a lot of conflict in his eyes.

When they locked eyes, it looked as if Matthew was waging a war against himself in his head, and there was not yet a clear winner.

Gilbert sighed. Not to mention that he was still a prisoner. He wondered how he was going to talk Ludwig out of that.

Ludwig was so unawesome. Maybe he'd send him and Feli off to Italy so they could go back to mating like bunnies on every available surface again, like they always did when they were alone.

* * *

**Um, yeah... you can disregard that last paragraph... does it even make sense? I wrote that part just now, and it's late... I don't know what I'm doing anymore... **

**Oh, and about the chapter after next, I don't know when I'm gonna get it up, cause I have a con weekend after next, so it'll either be up really early, if I make myself write, or like 2 days late, if I'm being lazy (Which I probably will be).**

**There was something else I wanted to say, but I forgot... O.o**

**~Potter-chan :D**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hey guys! So... I'm terribly sorry, but this is a really short chapter... And there's like no awesomeness in it. . And I'm sorry I don't know how to write violence... But I'm working on that. And also, since this chapter is so suckish, and I'm on winter break, I'm hopefully going to have a MUCH better (And way more eventful and adorable) chapter 18 up in like 2 or 3 days. If it's not up by then though, then it'll be next week cause Ikkicon is this weekend.**

* * *

"You are going to tell me everything you know." Ludwig said, walking towards Matthew menacingly.

"Never." Matthew said quietly, but defiantly, as was his way.

"That is what you say now. But we will see." Ludwig rumbled.

He reached out and grabbed the front of Matthew's shirt.

"Who sent you?

"Who do you work for?!"

"I will not hurt you if you tell me now."

"Tell me!"

Matthew just glared at the man. He kind of wished the German would just skip the formalities and get on with it. They both knew it was coming, and Matthew could handle pain. As easy as it was to forget, he was one of the top assassins in the world. He could take pain.

That was his last thought before he blacked out temporarily as Ludwig's gloved fist collided with his face.

His eyes snapped open about a minute later, just in time to see a big black boot rush towards him and bury itself in his stomach. He grunted and grabbed his stomach. Another fist soared out of nowhere and hit Matthew's jaw, causing his lip to split.

"Have you changed your mind yet?

Matthew looked up into Ludwig's face intensely, staring into his eyes.

He smirked.

"Nope!" He said as he spat a mouthful of blood at his captor.

"Not in this lifetime."

Ludwig literally growled.

"You should not have done that."

And the last thing Matthew saw before blacking out yet again was the steel-reinforced tip of Ludwig's military combat boot headed for his face.

It was probably a good thing he didn't wake up again that day.

* * *

When Matthew next woke up, he hurt all over. He couldn't move at all without his body violently protesting, and his head felt like Alfred had been using it for boxing practice... again.

He groaned and rolled over. Fortunately, his hands had apparently been untied while he was unconcious.

"Matteo? Matteo are you alright?" Feliciano's worried voice broke through his thoughts.

Matthew turned to see the Italian sitting behind him, a worried and sad look on his normally cheerful face. There was a pile of bandages and other medical supplies next to him, and he held onto one, clutching it tightly.

"Feli..." He replied, a sudden pain flaring in his chest, and he grimaced.

"Matteo! You shouldn't move, you're hurt really bad!" The brunette cried.

"No, I'm... fine." Matthew said, trying to sit up and failing. "Really."

Feliciano said nothing (for once), instead choosing to get up and walk over to Matthew and help him into a sitting position. He then returned to bandaging Matthew's newly acquired wounds.

This was happening more and more frequently. He sighed. It was getting quite annoying. And the country of Germany was probably going to run out of bandages soon, also...

"I... I'm sorry for Ludwig. He just... he want to protect this country, and the people he loves, and this is how he does that...

"He really isn't that mean usually, I promise..." He trailed off, looking on the verge of tears.

"It's alright Feli, really." He said. "I think I understand what it's like... to have someone you would do anything for."

Feliciano smiled a bit.

"Hey, where... where's Gilbert?" Matthew asked quietly.

"Ludwig sent him out on errands to keep him busy all this time so he didn't interfere. I'm sorry!" The Italian cried.

"He should be back soon though, so be happy, okay?" He added, brightening up.

* * *

The next few days passed much like that one, Ludwig interrogating him, him saying nothing, him getting even more beat up, and Feli or sometimes Gilbert coming afterwards to fix him up.

He was no longer tied to the pole, there was no more point as Ludwig had injured him to the point where he couldn't even get up the stairs.

Gilbert had seemed extremely angry whenever they were together, studying the Canadian's bruises and muttering to himself, something about Ludwig and a number of highly obscene, highly offensive unpleasantries. He hadn't done anything about it though, simply slipping out the door when he was done helping Matthew.

Matthew was starting to lose hope.

Then the thunderstorm began.

* * *

**So there's that... it's really short and terrible and I'm sorry! But I swear the next one will be like a billion times better. And adorable. It will be adorable. Your PruCan feels will thank me. Does that even make sense? Anyway, yeah... I know Luddy's really mean now, but he'll get nicer later! Also, I'm writing a one-shot in an AU to this story where Mattie and Gil meet under different circumstances. Also also, I was thinking about making a sequel to this, in order to avoid this thing being like 200 chapters. The sequel would involve Mattie being badass and saving Gil. You guys want it?**

**See ya next time dudes,**

**~Potter-chan :D**


	18. Chapter 18

**Hey guys, I'm back! I'm so terribly sorry I took so long, but I was really really sick this weekend, I couldn't do anything but lay on my bed and die slowly and painfully. BUT I'm back now, and I'm not dead! So yay! And I finished this chapter, even though I feel like it could be way better. I hope you like it though, I did my best to make it as fluffy as possible.**_  
_

* * *

_Boom._

Matthew jumped.

_Crash._

He jumped again and hugged his knees tighter. He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for the storm to pass. The thunder was so loud that Matthew could hear it loud and clear from the basement. The walls of the basement were cold against his back as he huddled in the corner, which just made everything worse.

Yes, he, Matthew Williams-Kirkland, expert assassin, was afraid of thunder.

He hated the fact, of course. It was completely illogical, especially for someone in his line of work. It was just thunder. But it scared the maple out of him, he just couldn't help it. It was all because of that one night...

_Crack._

The one small light in the far corner of the basement flickered off.

Matthew screamed. He shut his eyes tighter as he tried his best to disappear into the wall.

He wasn't scared of the dark, but being in the pitch black in the middle of a storm... that was bad. It was bad, bad, bad, very bad. He wanted to escape, to disappear, to just get out of there, away from the storm.

He started shivering, a result of the fear and the cold. He wanted to go home to Alfred and Francis and Arthur and Lars and Miguel and Kumajojo. He wanted Alfred to do stupid things to make him laugh, and play video games with him with the volume to high it drowned out the sounds of the storm.

He wanted Francis to rub his back and sing him French lullabies and have Arthur make him tea (the one thing he could actually make) like they did when Matthew was little.

He wanted Gilbert to come, to just be there with him and hold him and not let go.

He at least wished he had his pistol back, so he could have some semblance of control. But he was stuck in that stupid pitch black basement, all alone, at the mercy of the enemy.

And the thunder wouldn't stop.

Matthew wanted the storm to stop. He wanted it to stop. He wanted it to go away, go away, pleaseplease_please_.

_Creeeak._

Matthew paused. What was that? That wasn't thunder... Oh _dieu, _what if it was Ludwig?

He hesitantly looked up to see a figure with a head of familiar silvery-white hair flying down the stairs towards him.

"Matthew!"

Oh _dieu,_ it was Gilbert! Gilbert was there! Gilbert would help him, right?

_Boom._

Matthew let out a small scream and ducked his head back down, his eyes clenched shut once again.

"Matthew!"

Suddenly Gilbert was kneeling at his side, a worried and confused look on his face. What was wrong with Matthew? He'd heard him scream and had come down to see what was wrong, only to find the blond trembling in the corner. Scheiße, what had happened to him?

It was Ludwig's fault, wasn't it... It had to be... He'd kill him!

"Matthew, what happened? What did he do to you?" He growled.

Matthew stopped shivering and cautiously lifted his head a little.

"What?"

"What did Ludwig do to you?" He growled again. "I swear I'll kill him. I'll-"

"N-no, Gilbert, he didn't do anything!"

Gilbert stopped. "Wait, what? Then what's wrong?" He asked, puzzled.

"It- it's nothing-"

_Boom._

"Ah!" Matthew cried, curling back up into his ball.

"Huh? Wait... are you... scared of the storm?" The Prussian asked slowly.

Matthew raised his head up out of his arm to look at Gilbert and nodded slowly.

"Seriously?" He burst out laughing. "That's the stupidest-" He stopped as he caught sight of the fierce death glare the Canadian was sending him. Wow, obviously Matthew did not like to be teased about that...

"-I, uh, I mean, it's not that bad, really!" He added quickly. "Really, it's-"

He was cut off by another _crack_ of the thunder.

Matthew gave another small scream and cured back into his little ball.

So Matthew was afraid of thunder? That was unexpected. And weird, too. He was an assassin, after all, who would've thought he'd be scared of something so trivial?

But as Gilbert looked down at the curled-up, shivering Canadian in the corner, he just couldn't take it. He just couldn't leave the beautiful blond that he had captured in that cold, dark basement all alone and scared.

He sighed. "Come on then."

He placed a thin but strong hand behind his back and hooked an arm under his knees. Then he slowly stood, taking care not to jostle the Canadian in his arms.

"Wh-what are you doing?!" Matthew stuttered out surprisedly, stiffening.

"Well obviously you can't stay here," Gilbert said, "So you're gonna sleep in my room."

"O-oh, okay..." Matthew agreed hesitantly.

Gilbert tightened his grip on the thin form and started up the stairs, hugging Matthew close. Matthew began to relax and, after a short internal battle, lay his head against the Prussian's strong, warm chest.

Gilbert opened the basement door and stepped into the hallway, only walking a short while before turning and going through a door on the left.

It was dark, and all Matthew could make out were shapes on the walls and a bed in the middle of the room.

Gilbert drew back the covers and carefully placed Matthew on the bed. He then pulled the covers over him up to his chin and went around to the other side of the bed and slipped in.

They lay there for a minute in silence before:

"H-hey, Gil-"

_Crack._

"Ah!" Matthew exclaimed and shut his eyes tight, and suddenly his arms were around the Prussian's neck.

"Oh! I-i'm sorry!" He said, opening his eyes and noticing that their faces were way too close for comfort, also noticing his silver hair and how it shined, and how the crimson eyes twinkled, and- oh, not the time!

"Don't be sorry. In fact," Gilbert said with a smirk, "you can come even closer."

And suddenly Gilbert leaned forward and covered Matthew's mouth with his, kissing him gently.

"Mmph!" The blond squeaked in surprise and embarrassment, not having expected a full frontal assault on his mouth.

After a few seconds though, Matthew gave in and kissed him back, tangling his hands in silver hair and blushing deep red. He sighed as they pulled away for air.

"I've been waiting to do that for quite a while, Birdie." Gilbert said, grinning. "Now-"

_Crash._

Matthew gave a little whimper and threw himself into Gilbert's arms.

Gilbert rubbed Matthew's back and brushed a lock of hair from his face. "It's alright." He said uncharacteristically quietly. "I'm here, I'm not going anywhere. I'm not gonna leave you."

"Gilbert-"

"Shhh. Sleep, Birdie. Sleep and have awesome dreams. We'll talk in the morning."

And after a lot of whispering and hugging and kissing, he did fall asleep, his head buried in Gilbert's shoulder.

"Good night." He whispered, pressing a kiss to the forehead of the small blond in his arms.

"Ich liebe dich, mein Birdie."

* * *

**Yeah, so there... hope you guys liked it! And review please, and tell me stuff, I love to hear from you guys, and I love making new friends! Also, my tumblr is gredandforgeandharrypotter . tumblr . com, in case anyone cares. Harry Potter name, but I post more Hetalia and my other fandoms and randomness. **

**Ich liebe dich- I love you.**

**And do you guys think it was fluffy enough? If you give me enough feedback and suggestions I might go back and try to edit it and fix it and change a whole bunch of things and make it better... I dunno.**

**~Potter-chan**


	19. Chapter 19

**Hey guys! Wow, I'm so sorry it took so long to get this chapter up, but... it's a long story. Just stuff. Anyway, it's almost 3,000 words, so way longer than last chapter. It was originally gonna be longer, but I took some parts out, cause it's really late and I have school tomorrow, but I just wanted to get this chapter out as soon as possible. Maybe I'll put in the other little random parts I took out later, if I have time. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter!**

* * *

Matthew woke up in a bleary haze, soft golden sunlight streaming in and hitting his face. The second thing he noticed was that he was lying on something warm and... breathing. Matthew blinked as he experienced major deja vu, thinking back to the morning before his failed escape attempt. He shook his head. He had to keep his mind in the present.

He looked down at the sleeping albino. He looked so much more innocent in sleep, all the toll and pain of war falling away to reveal just... Gilbert. His lips were curved into a small smile that said he knew something no one else did, even if he was asleep. He was carelessly sprawled out on the bed, limbs everywhere, save for one arm clutching Matthew like his life depended on it.

Slowly, Matthew lifted Gilbert's arm off of him and got out of the bed, careful not to wake his- what were they now? Surely by now they were more than friends... Deciding to think about it later, the Canadian stood and tiptoed out of Gilbert's room in search of a restroom. The wooden floor was cold against his bare feet and he shivered.

Suddenly, Matthew heard a noise behind him. He spun around- only to have the cold barrel of a gun pressed to his head. Maple, not again...

Matthew slowly looked up to see a very angry Ludwig glaring at him.

"You! How did you get out of the basement?"

"...I- i-"

"Nevermind that!" Ludwig reached over and grabbed Matthew's shoulder, turning him around towards the basement. "Go." They walked towards to basement slowly and in silence.

Step. Step. Step.

And then Matthew whirled around.

"What are you doing? G-" Ludwig cried angrily before he was cut off.

Matthew had snatched the gun straight out of Ludwig's hand faster than he could react.

He struck the German over the head with the butt of the gun for good measure and then stepped back, the gun trained on his head and his finger on the trigger.

Ludwig froze and slowly raised his hands, glaring at Matthew. "Give me the gun, boy. You can't win. You won't escape."

"Who said I was trying to escape?"

"...What-"

"What the hell is going on here?"

Both males turned to look at Gilbert's bedroom door, where said albino stood, an unreadable look on his face.

Oh, good morning, Gil!" Matthew said cheerfully, dropping out of his fighting stance and letting the hand with the gun fall to his side. He skipped over to the Prussian and planted a kiss on the Prussian's lips, then glanced over at Ludwig.

The German's eyes had widened to an almost comical size, and and he had paled to the same shade as his albino brother. He looked positively horrified.

Matthew chuckled and tossed the gun to him. He fumbled with it for a minute before getting a grip on it. Matthew then continued on his way, walking out and leaving Gilbert and Ludwig in the hallway alone.

Only when Matthew was out of sight was Ludwig finally able to speak.

"East... WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!"

"Well, West, it looked like you just got owned by _mein vögelchen..._ Oh yeah, and we're kinda together now. Maybe you should sit down, West..." The Prussian led his brother into the kitchen, where the blond took a seat at the table.

Gilbert relayed the whole story (Well, almost the whole story) to his brother, ignoring the pained look on his face until Ludwig finally spoke again.

"YOU DID _WHAT?!"_

* * *

"He was scared of the storm, West, what was I supposed to do?!"

Gilbert was currently in the process of attempting to explain and justify his actions to his brother for about the nine hundredth time, as Ludwig would not accept Gilbert's reasoning during the last night, insisting that he was completely wrong for doing it, and Matthew should be locked back up in the basement immediately.

"You were supposed to leave him there!"

Both brothers were getting tired and frustrated, about to snap.

"Well I couldn't do that!"

"Why the hell not?!" Ludwig questioned angrily, expecting another excuse about humanity and such.

"BECAUSE I LOVE HIM!"

"I... what?" Ludwig asked, bewildered.

"Don't make me say it again!"

"But you haven't said that since... Elizabeta... No, Gilbert, you can't... love... him. He is the enemy! He was sent to kill you, you can't..." The German said, a worried and puzzled frown crossing his features. He rubbed his temples and let out a breath.

"Bruder," Gilbert said, grabbing the other's shoulders. "Bruder, look at me. Birdie... Matthew... He's amazing. He's kind, and beautiful, and funny, and amazing, and he just has that something about him... And he says no one remembers him, but I could never forget him. And I can't stand being without him, and I can't stand keeping him as a prisoner here. Please, bruder."

"But, Gil-"

"I'll take full responsibility for him and everything, West!

"West, I love him like you love Feli." And that was when Gilbert saw the spark of recognition in his brother's eyes.

"Like... like I love Feliciano?

"_Ja, _bruder."

Ludwig sighed. "...Alright."

Gilbert grinned and wrapped his arms around his brother in a rare display of affection between them. "_Danke,_ Luddy!"

"But if he does anything, it's on your head!"

"Of course, Luddy!" Gilbert called behind him as he bounded out of the room joyfully.

Ludwig sighed as he was left in the kitchen by himself. _Gott..._

* * *

"Birdie! What about this?"

"What? No, Gilbert, I'm not wearing that!" Matthew exclaimed, blushing.

"Kesesese, alright Birdie..." Gilbert laughed, putting back the hot pink miniskirt he had been holding.

It had been 3 days since the night of the thunderstorm, and Matthew had quickly tired of borrowing Feli and Gilbert's clothes, so Gilbert had taken him shopping. Ludwig had protested at first, not completely trusting Matthew, but Gilbert had ignored him and gone anyway. "Screw West!" He had said. "We can do whatever we want."

So they had left the house on a chilly but clear afternoon and headed out, to a nice little shopping center downtown. Matthew had actually been to downtown Berlin before, on a mission, but hadn't been able to see much of Berlin then. As they drove through, though, he found it was actually a very nice city. He quite liked it.

Now Matthew was looking around, trying to find clothes similar to the ones he had in Canada while Gilbert popped up every few minutes with suggestions. Half the suggestions were things Matthew would actually consider, like black skinny jeans and rock t-shirts and red hoodies, and others made him blush furiously and whisper insistently to put whatever it was back before anyone saw (like that accursed miniskirt).

Matthew was standing in front of a rack of shirt's looking through them when suddenly he felt a presence behind him. He spun around.

"Hallo there." A tall, blond man in an expensive-looking black coat said, smiling down at him.

Wait, at _him?_ What? Why was he looking at him? That's the second time his invisibility had failed him so far...

"A- are you talking to me?" He asked awkwardly.

"Ja, of course." The man said, still smiling the slightly creepy smile. "You're cute."

Matthew blushed in embarrassment, internally panicking, and squeaked, "I- i- what?"

"You heard me." Said the man, stepping forward until he was uncomfortably close.

"Oh, well, I, um..." Matthew stuttered, at a loss of what to do. No one he didn't know had ever paid this much attention to him before, especially not like this.

Matthew stepped back. The man stepped forward.

"So, how would you like to get a drink with me, hm?"

"I, um-" Maple, how did he get rid of this guy without being rude? He could kill him, of course, but he didn't think the police would like that very much, and he didn't like to kill civilians. And how could this man even see him? Maybe Gilbert was rubbing off on him... Or maybe it was just like how those bullies in high school could see him- he could only be seen by people he didn't want to be seen by.

"It will be a _lot _of fun." The man continued, putting his hand on Matthew's shoulder.

"I- um, I- no thank you sir, I really can't do that, I... have plans."

"I'm sure you can cancel them, can you not?" The man asked, his hand moving to Matthew's back.

"A-and they're with my boyfriend." He stammered, hoping the man would take the hint.

He didn't.

"It's alright." The man insisted, his hand sliding down Matthew's back. "He doesn't have to know.

Then multiple thing happened at once.

The man's hand slid lower.

Matthew finally worked up the courage to protest. "No, sir, I really don't want to!"

And Gilbert appeared suddenly, popping out of nowhere, and promptly punched the man in the face.

"Get the fuck away from my Birdie!" He yelled as the man toppled backward onto the ground.

He turned back to the Canadian standing behind him, looking utterly overwhelmed.

"Are you alright Birdie? How dare he touch you! Did he hurt you? Should I kill him? Or... we do have though secret prisons up in the north... I can pull some strings..." He trailed off in thought.

"What? N-no, it's alright..."

"WHAT?! _Nein_, this is not alright!"

Just then, the man got off the ground behind Gilbert and lunged at him, punching him in the face. Gilbert stumbled back, then regained his footing and kneed him in the stomach before grabbing the man's head and ramming it into his own. They both groaned in pain, falling backwards and clutching their heads.

Matthew started towards Gilbert' a concerned look on his face, but Gilbert straightened and waved Matthew off, a determined look on his face. Then suddenly, the man grabbed a nearby steel pole and swung it at Gilbert. It hit his head, and drops of blood splattered onto the floor as Gilbert fell once again. This time, however, he didn't get back up immediately, his eyes were squeezed shut and his hands cradled the spot on his forehead where the steel pole had hit him.

The man then raised the solid steel bar high over his head, about to bring it down on Gilbert once and for all. He swung it down towards him just as Gilbert managed to open his eyes. Said crimson eyes widened in mild horror as he saw the weapon bearing down on him, then shut tight in anticipation for the strike.

But it didn't come. He heard a metallic clatter and cautiously opened his eyes to see his Birdie standing over the man- who had collapsed to the ground- with his foot on the man's head. The man was almost unconscious, and groaning quietly in pain.

"...What did you do, Birdie?" He asked, astonished.

"I, um, kicked him in the head?" Matthew replied, making it sound almost like a question.

Gilbert suddenly broke into a giant grin. "That proves how awesome you are, Birdie!"

The Canadian blushed lightly. "Well, I am an assassin, Gilbert..."

"I know, Birdie." Gilbert chuckled, before sobering. "But seriously, if anyone ever does that again I will kill them. No holding back next time."

Matthew sighed. "Alright, Gil. Whatever you say."

* * *

"Hey Birdie?" Gilbert started on the way home, as Matthew looked out the window at the world passing by.

"Yeah, Gil?"

"I thought you were invisible."

"I thought I was too, Gil."

* * *

"WOULD YOU SHUT UP YOU BLOODY GIT?!"

Lars sighed. He now knew what a miracle it was that Matthew had grown up sane.

This certainly wasn't what he had been expecting this trip to be like. Arthur had been examining maps and such, trying to determine where they would begin their search, but was constantly interrupted by Francis, who kept trying to flirt with him (in between periods of time in which he would go back and sit in his seat almost silent, with a worried look on his face), and Alfred, who just seemed to like annoying him. All this would result in a three-way shouting match with solved absolutely nothing but giving Lars a headache.

And then there was Miguel. Every time Alfred turned around, the Cuban would be in his face, yelling about how he was a"fucking bastard", to which Alfred would respond with a "fucking Commie!"

Then Francis, Arthur, Alfred and Miguel would engage in four-way warfare, as they were doing right then.

Lars was seriously considering jumping out of the plane.

* * *

Lars' red jacket waved in the wind as he stepped out of the plane.

That had been the longest flight of his life.

At least they had reached their destination now, though. They could now start upon their goal: saving Matthew.

They had finally touched down in Berlin. It was dark, and sometime after midnight according to Francis. Arthur was talking on his high-tech, military-issue cell phone in hushed, serious tones. He then snapped it shut and made his way over to the group with a purposeful gait.

"Okay, all of you listen up. I have a lead. One of my spies-"

"Spies?! You have spies here?" Alfred interjected.

"I am a very powerful man, lad. Do not underestimate me. Now, one of my spies here in Berlin spotted Beilschmidt leaving a shopping center downtown with someone fitting, um... Marcus?"

"Matthew." Lars supplied, suppressing a sigh.

"Ah, yes. Someone fitting Matthew's description. They followed them through town, but lost them as they turned into an old, rich neighbourhood in Eastern Berlin. We have reason to believe that's where, um..."

"Matthew."

"Yes, right. We believe that's where Matthew is. My spies are currently working to pinpoint which house he's in. In the meantime, it's late. We'll go to the hotel and get some sleep, and tomorrow morning we'll figure out a plan of action."

"What? No, we have to go save Mattie now! Who knows what they could be doing to him right now! They could be torturing him, they could-"

"ALFRED! I know very well what they could be doing to the lad, but right now there's nothing we can do. We're not sure which house he's in, and we're all to tired to be of any help to him now."

"But we can't just do nothing-!"

"Well, you have to!"

"Arthur is right, Alfred. Tonight we rest. tomorrow we will save _mon petit Mathieu." _Francis spoke up.

"Whatever." Alfred grumbled. "But if Mattie is dead tomorrow because we were too late, it's your fault!"

* * *

EARLIER THAT DAY...

"Ve, Matteo!"

Matthew looked up from the book he was reading at the Italian. "Yeah, Feli?"

Gilbert and Ludwig were upstairs in Ludwig's study, planning and strategizing, and basically doing their jobs as the Generals of the Prussian and German armies. Normally they would have gone downtown, to the government building where matters such as those were usually handled, but as Ludwig didn't trust Matthew, especially not enough to leave him alone in the house with Feliciano, they opted to stay home.

"Mi fratello Lovino is coming to visit!"

Lovino... Oh, yes, Matthew remembered. Lovino was Feliciano's twin brother. Feliciano had told him about Lovino when Matthew was still chained up in the basement. According to Feli he was wonderful, but he could be scary sometimes. When Matthew asked what he meant, all Feliciano would say was "you'll see when you meet him."

Matthew supposed he'd find out soon, then.

"When is he coming?"

"He'll be here tomorrow morning!"

* * *

EIGHT DAYS PRIOR

"Hola?"

"Antonio?"

"Ah, hola, Francis!"

"Toni, _mon ami,_ I need you to do something for me."

"_Que_, Francis, what's the problem?"

"I made a big mistake, Toni, and now I think _mon petit Mathieu_ is in trouble.

"That's terrible, _mi amigo_, but what can I do?"

"I need you to go visit Gilbert, and ask him what he did with Mathieu, and tell him not to hurt him anymore! I know it's complicated, but I'll explain everything when Mathieu is safe."

"...Alright, _amigo, _if you say so. And you're in luck, me and Lovi are actually going to visit them anyway! Don't worry, I'll make sure your, ah..."

"Matthieu."

"_Si_, I'll make sure your Matteo is okay!"

* * *

**Yeah, so there's that, hope you guys like it, I'm not gonna put any translations cause I think all the stuff in think chapter is pretty basic, but if there's something you don't know, you can message me and I'll be happy to tell you what it means. ^.^ Anyway, hope you guys liked it, goodnight. :P**

**~Potter-chan :D**


	20. Chapter 20

**Hi guys! Mon Dieu, I'm so sorry I didn't post this last weekend, but I just finished it today, I saw The Hobbit for my birthday last Friday and spent all last weekend reading Hobbit fanfiction and procrastinating and ohmygod Kili is so hot AHHHH. Why does no one ship Kili/Bilbo? D': Anyway, here's this chapter, I hope you like it, I think it's pretty decent.**

* * *

"ETA twenty minutes." Arthur said from the back of the white van he had acquired from who-knows-where. It was just like those vans they had in all the spy movies, complete with a dozen high-tech computers, GPS devices and other gizmos, and Lars could have sworn he had seen something that looked suspiciously like a missile launching system. He wouldn't tell anyone where he got it, just that it was "on loan from a friend". They had all left it at that, deciding it was better not to ask. Francis was driving, and Arthur had begun to brief them on the newest information.

"Right, so, my spies have narrowed down the possibilities of our target down to two options, two houses in the neighbourhood. Since we are not sure which one is the right one, and we cannot afford to wait any longer, we will hit this one first." The Brit said, pointing at a house on the map that was currently displayed on the biggest screen.

"And if that's the wrong one?" Miguel spoke up from the backseat.

"Er..." Arthur trailed off. "We'll, uh, we'll cross that bridge if we come to it. And hope that we don't."

Alfred snorted in derision. "Wow, Artie. Nice plan."

"I don't see you coming up with anything better!" Arthur retorted.

"Well I'm not the one who is a 'very powerful man' and 'not to be underestimated.'" Replied Alfred mockingly.

"You git!" Arthur yelled. "I-"

"Arthur, _mon cher_, perhaps we should focus on the mission, oui?" Francis cut in.

"Hmph. Alright." The Brit said grudgingly.

* * *

"Closing in on the house. ETA 50 seconds. All units report." Alfred heard Arthur say through his earpiece. Yes, apparently whatever "friend" had given Arthur a surveillance van had also given him earpieces with which to communicate through.

Alfred raised his hand to his ear and pressed the button on the device.

"Freedom Hero approaching target. ETA 30 seconds." He said, then took his fingers off the button.

"I'm approaching the house from the west, ETA 50 seconds." Alfred heard Miguel's voice say in his ear. No one else had chosen a codename but him, stating that they were both unnecessary and stupid.

"I am approaching the house with Arthur, ETA 50 seconds." Francis's voice said.

"I am approaching from the backyard, ETA 30 seconds." Lars said.

"Good." Arthur said. "We'll see you later then. Maintain radio silence until further notice."

Alfred looked up at the house as he approached, checking for signs of life. Was that a laugh? A giggle? Or was it just the wind?

He found a window over-looking a couple of bushes and crouched under it. He slowly rose and looked through it to see into the house. He could see a decent living room, not rich-looking but nice in a comfortable way. It was quiet in the empty room, but the American could hear voices in another room somewhere.

He was going in. He put his hand on the window and tried to figure out the best way to get in without being heard. Suddenly, he felt a small gust of warm air on his wrist and noticed that the window was slightly open.

Well, that made things easier.

He stuck his hands underneath the window and slowly pushed it up, cringing at the loud noise it made. He hoped no one had heard that. Alfred hoisted himself up and over the windowsill, falling into the house.

"Ahhh!" He suddenly heard from another room.

Oh god, that must be Mattie! They were hurting Mattie! "Guys, did you hear that?! Alfred cried into his earpiece, breaking the radio silence. "They're hurting him! Go!"

He rushed toward the source of the sound, drawing his gun.

The others, hearing his panicked tone, started panicking as well. Lars silently drew his gun and slipped through a door like a ghost, moving towards the sound. Miguel, still being outside, rammed his fist through a window and jumped through it. Francis kicked the front door down and he and Arthur entered, guns drawn.

They each ran toward the scream, ready to fight Matthew's kidnappers-

And came face to face with a room full of old ladies and small children.

They stared at Alfred, who had been the first to enter, and he dropped his arms to his sides. He heard running feet as his companions entered, then froze with dumbfounded expressions enveloping their faces.

"Oh, dear..." Arthur trailed off.

"_Mon Dieu_, Arthur!" Francis cried.

Then one of the women stepped towards Alfred, glaring at him furiously. The others were comforting the children, some of which had started crying, but this one obviously had other ideas.

"_Was ist der Sinn dieser_?!" She yelled at him. "_Wer glaubst du, du bist? Raus auf einmal, Sie Bastard gottverlassen_!"

"Whoa, whoa, um... I don't speak German, sorry..." Alfred tried to explain, but the woman continued in her verbal assault. Seeing that he didn't know what she was saying, she brought over one of the few younger woman, apparently wanting her to translate for her. She spoke rapid-fire German to her for a minute, the paused to she could translate.

"Oh, um, she said that... you are a, um, filthy, pathetic man, and, ah, fat, too, and, um she will, um... make you sorry you ever came here, you... um, ah, fucking son of a, um, bitch." The younger woman said in a soft voice, blushing like mad and looking completely mortified and immensely apologetic.

Alfred blinked. "...Oh." He hadn't been expecting that...

Nor had he been expecting the same old woman to come at him with a broom, catching him in the face and probably leaving a nasty bruise.

* * *

"Sure you got the right house this time?" Alfred asked Arthur, a mocking smirk tugging at his lips.

"Yes, yes, you wanker, this is the right house!" Arthur replied irritably.

After Alfred had gotten hit with the broom, the woman had turned on Arthur for some reason, and proceeded to beat the crap out of him. Francis had tried to help him, but couldn't get too close without being terrified the broom would touch his hair. Miguel, Lars and Alfred just watched, Miguel and Alfred laughing like mad. After a while, Lars and Miguel had grown tired of watching Arthur get beaten up by an old lady, and Lars had calmed the woman down while Miguel hefted Arthur onto his shoulder and walked out the front door.

"If you say so." Alfred taunted.

* * *

Alfred was once again outside a window, trying to find a way in. Round two. He hoped this really was the right house and Arthur's spies hadn't screwed it up. He didn't want to get hit with a broom again.

Upon finding that the window was locked, he took a deep breath and smashed his fist into it, hissing as a piece of glass cut deep across his knuckles. He cringed at the loud sound the breaking glass had made. Mattie had always been better at this than him...

At the thought of his brother, Alfred's chest tightened. He would save his brother. He would. He might not always remember him, or be there for him, but he did love him, and he would save him.

He jumped through the window and looked around at the composed, refined-looking living room. It was indeed empty. He creeped into another one and checked it as well. Nothing. He went from room to room, finding no one but Lars in one instance and cursing the largeness of the house, until he stumbled upon the front door.

It was slightly ajar from where Francis had damaged the lock, but that wasn't what had caught his attention. There was a small, almost hidden hallway near it. That had to be it!

Alfred turned down it, holding tight to his gun. There were two doors he could see in the hall, the one at the very end and the one on the right. He approached the one on the right first, since it was closer. It was shut tight. He put his ear against it, listening for any activity in the room.

Nothing.

Still, that didn't mean there was no one inside. Raising his gun with one hand, Alfred reached out and tested the doorknob. It was unlocked. Well, that was lucky.

Alfred hesitated for a second. Should he call the others first? No, he wasn't completely sure this was it, and he didn't need their help anyway. He could handle whatever was behind that door.

Alfred took a deep breath.

...3

...2

...1.

He wrenched open the door. It collided with the wall with a bang. Alfred started forward, his gun cocked and ready-

and he froze.

"Hey!"

And there, in the room, right in front of him, was a bed.

And there, in that bed, staring at him, was a strange man with silver hair- General Gilbert Beilschmidt.

And there, asleep in the general's arms, was his brother. Mattie.

Oh god. "Mattie!"

In an instant, Beilschmidt had obtained a gun and had it pointed at him, keeping him from reaching his brother.

"_Raus aus meinem Haus, du Hurensohn_!"

Alfred just stared blankly.

Gilbert sighed and switched to English. "What are you doing in my house, you son of a bitch?" He asked angrily.

"What are you doing with _my brother,_ you fucking son of a bitch?"

Gilbert's eyebrow raised slightly in surprise as he looked at the American in front of him. "Ah, so you're my Matthew's brother. Can't really say I'm pleased to meet you."

"He's not yours! How dare you do this to him?! How dare you touch him?! How dare you hurt him?! You'll pay for this!" Alfred yelled, literally shaking with anger.

"Well, I don't know about the other stuff, but I'm certainly not hurting him." Said Gilbert calmly. "My awesomeness would never hurt him."

"Then what is he doing here?!" Alfred seethed as he gestured at the room.

"You ever thought that maybe he wants to be here?"

"What?! Why would he want to be here? That's stupid, he doesn't want to be here!"

"Why don't you ask him? He's right here." Gilbert invited. He bent his head over Matthew's and gently shook his shoulder, still keeping his gun trained on Alfred.

On the outside, he was the picture of confidence, but inside, he was having doubts. They were small, but they were there. What if, when Birdie saw his brother, he did want to go back? The only reason he hadn't left a long time ago was because he was not able to escape him...

Gilbert's... feelings for Matthew had grown quite a bit since they'd met (in an albeit very unconventional way), and he knew Birdie's feelings for him had as well, but... how much? Enough to want to stay with him?

"Hey, Birdie?" He said. "Wake up."

After a second, Matthew's eyelids fluttered open and he looked around sleepily. "Yeah, Gil? What is it?"

"...There's someone here to see you." Gilbert said, pointing at Alfred. Matthew followed Gilbert's finger until he caught sight of his brother. His eyes widened. He sat up.

"Oh my god. Alfred?! You came!"

"Of course I came, bro!" Alfred said cheerily, walking towards him.

"Now, come on." He said, grabbing his brother's wrist. "We're leaving."

* * *

**So yeah, hope you liked it. And I just wanted to say I'm sorry to any German people that might be reading this and see me describe something totally wrong or something, I have no idea what Germany's like. Also, I used Google translate for the German. I am so sorry.**

**Translations:**

**_Was ist der Sinn dieser_?- What is the meaning of this?**

**_Wer glaubst du, du bist? Raus auf einmal, Sie Bastard gottverlassen_!- Who do you think you are? Get out at once, you godforsaken bastard!**

**_Raus aus meinem Haus, du Hurensohn_!- Get out of my house, you son of a bitch!**

**Thank all you guys so much for reading and reviewing and waiting for the next chapter and not just giving up on me, I love you all! :D**

**There will be, I think, like 2 or 3 more chapters of this, and then I'll take a break for a while, write someone-shots, maybe actually do some homework, and then I'll start on the sequel. I don't know exactly when, but I promise I will, and if I don't, please pester me until I do.**

**~Potter-chan :D**


	21. Chapter 21

**I am so sorry! I had a whole week of tests, and then I was super uninspired and I had these ideas for oneshots that I just had to write, and then I got sick again, and I'm still trying to put together my punk!Prussia cosplay and... ugh. I'm so sorry, feel free to yell at me. Anyway, hope you like it.**

* * *

_"Now come on, we're leaving." Alfred said, grabbing his brother's wrist._

"But- no, Alfred-"

"It's alright Mattie, I'll protect you from that bastard!"

"Alfred-"

"I won't let him hurt you anymore!"

"Al-"

"That bastard doesn't deserve to live-" Alfred started to raise his gun.

"ALFRED!"

Alfred stopped. "What is it, Mattie?"

"Well, um... you see, Gilbert's not really that bad..." Matthew said, trying to figure out how to explain to his brother.

"What are you talking about Mattie? That bastard has been holding you captive and torturing you and doing God-knows-what-else to you, of course he's evil!" Alfred burst out.

"But no, Al... let me explain." He said, leading his brother out of the room. On his way out, he cast a backwards glance at Gilbert, who was still on the bed, watching Matthew leave the room with a forlorn look over his features.

* * *

"Francis, slow down!"

"Non, mon cher, we must save Matthieu!" Francis yelled as he kicked open the door. He stopped for a moment to allow Arthur to catch up, and then ran into the house.

They entered into the foyer, and upon finding no one, crossed into another room, the kitchen. No one. The left the kitchen and went out into the hall, guns still drawn. No one, still.

Francis sighed quietly, but then stopped. "Arthur." He whispered so quietly it was barely audible. "Did you hear something?"

"No," The Englishman whispered back. "I-"

Suddenly, a figure burst out of nowhere, gun aimed at the pair. Upon further inspection, he had a very imposing stature, very muscley, with slicked back blond hair and stern blue eyes. Said eyes were currently narrowed in anger.

Francis remembered him, this was Gilbert's little brother, Ludwig. He, Gilbert, and Antonio used to play pranks on him when they were younger. However, it seemed as though Ludwig did not remember him.

"What are you doing in my house?!" He bellowed in an angry German accent.

Francis unconciously took a small step back, but Arthur was used to these situations.

"You are holding a young man captive in this house." Arthur replied in a hard voice. "We are merely here to get him back."

The German's eyes widened a tiny bit, an action that went unnoticed by Arthur, but Francis caught it. He also knew what it meant. Ludwig knew where Matthieu was.

Ludwig, on the other hand, was very conflicted as to what he was supposed to do. They were there for Matthew... That meant they were on the side Matthew came from, they were the enemy. But his bruder loved Matthew (here he inwardly cursed his bruder again for falling in love with the enemy), and since Matthew had said his family would eventually come looking for him, he presumed this was them, so he didn't think Gilbert would want him to kill them. So then what was he to do?

* * *

Matthew was leading Alfred through the house towards the living room when he heard a familiar voice and British accent.

"...to bring him back."

It was Arthur! Arthur had come for him, too! He turned and sprinted towards the voice. He rounded the corner to see Ludwig with his gun pointed at Arthur, whose gun was pointed right back at Ludwig. What surprised Matthew even more, though, was the person next to his big brother- Francis.

He hadn't expected Francis to have come as well, being the only one in their family not in the military. He ran into the hall and launched himself at his brother-in-law with a cry of "Francis!" He enveloped the Frenchman in a giant bear hug from behind as the latter jumped in surprise.

"What-!" He started.

"It's me, Francis. It's Matthieu."

"Non!" Francis gasped. "Mon Matthieu? Mon petit Matthieu?" He said disbelievingly, turning around in the circle of his arms.

"Yeah, it's me."

Francis grabbed the Canadian and hugged him back. "But how are you okay? I would have Gi- ah, Beilschmidt, would have killed you, or taken you prisoner and tortured you!" He cried, nearly sobbing at that point.

"No, no, Francis, that's, um... not what happened... exactly."

"Then what did happen?" Arthur interjected.

"Uh... Come on, let's all sit down and I'll explain everything that's happened... But Arthur, Ludwig, can you two put down your guns first, please?"

Said men glared at each other before lowering their weapons and putting them away. Ludwig nodded at Matthew and walked away into the kitchen.

"Alright, lad, come on." Arthur said. "You're sure we're safe here? Not going to be shot where we stand?"

Matthew chuckled. "Yes, Arthur. We'e safe here. Probably."

"Probably?!" Arthur yelped.

"Come on, Arthur." Matthew laughed.

He took Francis's hand and led Francis, Arthur, and Alfred back towards the living room, where Miguel and Lars stood.

"Mon Dieu, you guys are here too? Matthew cried.

"Of course, Matthew, we had to come help rescue you. We're your family too."

"Aw, thank you so much guys! You don't know how much that means to me."

"No problem, Matthew. Now are we leaving or what?" Miguel asked.

"No," The Canadian replied, "We have some things to sort out first."

* * *

"...And that's how I ended up here, like this." Matthew finished. He had conveniently left out the part about Gilbert breaking his fingers, as he had forgiven him, they were mostly healed anyway, and, most importantly, he didn't want five armed men bursting in on Gilbert and trying to kill the Prussian for daring to hurt him. He didn't intend for them to ever find out; He wanted Gilbert to stay in one piece.

He had also left out the parts about their relationship, as he wanted to be able to tell the whole story without much interruption. But now that he had finished the story, he would tell them.

He just hoped they would be okay with it.

"Well. " Arthur said. "That certainly is something. But... how did Beilschmidt know you were coming? Surely he didn't hear or see you?"

Matthew frowned. "I really don't know. I never asked."

"And..."

Francis, who had been sitting on the edge of the couch, as far away from the other as he could be without raising suspicion, slowly got up and slipped. He needed to talk to Gilbert.

He wandered around the house for a few minutes before finding a hallway that projected a very Gilbert-like aura. That had to be it.

He tiptoed down the hall and stopped in front of the first door. He peeked inside, and saw his old friend sitting on his bed, muttering to himself in German.

The Frenchman wasn't completely fluent in German, but he knew enough to make out what Gilbert was saying. "Gonna leave me... Gonna go back to his family... loves them more than me... probably loves that ass Lars more than me too... they're his family... they're not on the side of his enemies like I am... Probably didn't even love me in the first place..."

"Gilbert?"

Said Prussian jumped slightly and immediately raised his gun towards the intruder, but then noticed who it was and lowered it.

"No way... Francis?" He asked.

"It is me, mon ami. It has been much too long! How have you been? It is wonderful to see you again!" Francis gushed.

"It's great to see you too, Francis!" Gilbert stood and made his way over to the Frenchman. They hugged for a second and then Gilbert pulled away. "What are you doing here? You came for Mattie too?"

"Oui, I came with Alfred and Arthur, and we brought two of Matthieu's friends as well."

"Brought a whole fucking town, did you? To guarantee you'd have to manpower to get back my Birdie, to take him away from me? Well, fuck... But don't worry... I'm not going to fight you... he can go if he wants to." Gilbert sat back down on the edge of his bed and put his head in his hands.

"Your Birdie?" Francis asked curiously.

"Oh, yeah, that's what I call Matthew."

"Hmmm... You really like mon petit Matthieu, don't you?"

"Nein, Francis... I love him."

"I thought so." Francis said with a satisfied smile.

"But it doesn't matter anyway." Gilbert said depressedly. "He's just going to go back with you guys."

"And why would he do that?" Francis questioned.

"Because he's wanted to go home from the very beginning, and now he has the chance to. There's nothing keeping him here anymore, no locks or chains or guns to his head." Said Gilbert sullenly.

"Gilbert, you are an idiot. Do you not see that there is something keeping him here? When he told us about you, he did not say it out loud, not yet, but I could see it in his eyes. Whenever he aid your name, his eyes would light up, he would get this amazing, indescribable air about him. Do you know what this means, Gilbert?"

"Nein, what?"

"Gilbert, Matthieu is just as much in love with you as you are with him. I am French, I know what it looks like when one is in love."

"But-"

"There are no buts, Gilbert. He loves you and you love him. I can see it clear as day. He will stay."

* * *

_Ding dong!_

"Feli, can you go get that?" Ludwig asked.

He and Feliciano were sitting in the kitchen having breakfast, trying to ignore the enemy in their living room.

Felician stood up. "Ve, okay, Luddy!"

He walked out and down the hallway, stopping at the front door.

_Ding dong! Ding dong!_

"I'm coming!" He swung open the door.

"Fratello!" He cried, enveloping his brother in a giant hug.

"Fratello, GET OFF ME!" Lovino cried, struggling to escape Feliciano's hold.

"Sorry, Lovino! I just missed you so much!"

"Alright, Feli, I missed you, too. Now get off of me!"

"Hola, Feli. Como estas?"

"Buen giorno, Toni! I'm great! It's so much fun here with Luddy and Gil and Matteo- oh, yeah, I have a new friend called Matteo! Gilbert brought him here a while ago. At first Ludwig said he had to stay in the basement, but now he lives in Gilbert's room! At least he will until they go back to Gilbert's house. But they're both really happy now and-"

"Ah, Feli, speaking of Gilbert, where is he?"

"Oh, sorry! He's in his room, I think!"

"Gracias, Feli!" Antonio thanked him and started inside.

"Oh, and there are lots of strange men in the sitting room, Toni. I think you should try to avoid them."

"Que...? Alright, thanks again, Feli." He said, walking into the house and leaving the Italian brothers alone. He could hear voices in the other room, but ignored them as Feli had said. He went down the hallway containing Gilbert's room and opened the door.

The first thing he saw was the gun pointed at his face. The next thing he knew it was being lowered, and he was being hugged by a blond blur.

"Toni! Mon ami! It has been too long!"

"Oh, Francis! What are you doing here? Oh, hola Gilbert."

"Arthur and Alfred and some of Matthieu's friends and I came to save him and bring him home..."

"Oh, well then, everything's bueno, si?"

"Non! Because now Matthieu cannot leave!"

"What, why?" Antonio asked confusedly.

"Because he and Gilbert are in l'amour!"

"...Oh. Oh! Oh, si, that is a problem. I do not think your family will like that."

Gilbert snorted. "Yeah, obviously."

* * *

Arthur was getting suspicious. Although he hadn't said anything, he had seen Francis sneak away, and now he had been gone for a while...

"...So you sure I don't need to kill anyone?" Alfred asked again.

"Quite sure." Matthew reassured him, halfway between appalled and amused.

"...But can I kill them anyway?"

Arthur tuned them out again. Where was Francis? He hope he wasn't off trying to... engage people in... activities. He shuld probably go look for him.

"Excuse me, I'm going to the restroom. I'll be back soon."

"Alright, Arthur." Matthew said, looking lost in thought.

Arthur took his leave and began wandering the house until he heard voices down a hallway.

"But wait, uno momento, does Matteo know?"

"Know what?"

"How it was Francis that told you he was coming?"

"I, um, no... I haven't told him that yet..."

"But Gilbert! You have to-"

At that moment, Arthur, blood boiling with anger, burst into the room.

"This is YOUR doing?!"

The three men looked up at him, surprised.

Gilbert didn't even bother to raise his gun this time. "Another one! What is this, a fucking railway station?!" He shouted.

"Ah, non, non, mon cher-"

"Don't 'mon cher' me, Frog! This is all your fault! You compromised our mission, told this kraut that Matthew was coming for him, put my little brother's _life _in danger!"

"Non, I can explain-!"

"No, I don't even care right now! You put Matthew's life in danger, and only by the grace of God and the kindness of this man is he alive!"

"W-what?"

They all turned back towards the door at the voice.

There Matthew stood, staring wide-eyed at them all.

Behind him, Lars and Miguel stood outside the doorway, confused and frustrated expressions on their faces. Lars stepped back and leaned against the wall opposite the door. "I'm done." He muttered, covering his face with his hand. "I'm done."

"Francis... you..."

"Non, mon petit, I only did it because Gilbert is my friend! I could not allow him to be killed! You see-"

"I told him about that." Gilbert interjected.

"Then you see why I did what I did! And I swear, I didn't know you were the assassin sent to kill him. I swear to you, Matthieu. Francis looked at him with a pleading gaze.

Everyone was silent as Matthew considered.

"...It's alright, Francis. I forgive you." He smiled, stepping forward to hug his big brother figure.

"Well I don't! I-" Arthur was cut off by Gilbert.

'Birdie, have you been crying?"

For a second, Matthew thought about lying, but he knew there was no use.

"Um... maybe..."

"Mattie..."

He sighed. "Well, you see..."

* * *

**15 Minutes Earlier**

"...So you're okay, the kraut isn't as evil as we thought so we have to let him live, everything's okay, can we go home now?"

"Actually, Al... there's ne more thing I need to tell you... Promise you won't get mad?

"Yeah, what is it Mattie?"

"I... You see, Gilbert and I... While I was here with him, we kind of..."

"Come on Mattie, what is it?"

"I love him, Alfred." Matthew said. "I love Gilbert."

"You... what?" Alfred asked, his face unreadable.

"I love Gilbert... Please, I need you to understand, Al... I'm in love with him."

"..."

"Please understand Al, please..."

"I understand..." Alfred said slowly.

"You do? Oh, that's wonderful, Al, I-"

"Traitor."

* * *

**So... yeah. Sorry about that. Hope you liked it and didn't hate the end too much.**

**~Potter-chan**


	22. Chapter 22

**Woah, dudes, I am so sorry I'm just going to explode. I siriusly never meant to make you guys wait that long for this, I've just been really busy and really lazy and really stressed and oh my god, I'm so sorry, I feel terrible. If I ever do this again, feel free to yell at me, really, please. It'll probably make me work on it more if I know there's someone that actively wants the next chapter...**

**Anyway, this probably wasn't worth the wait, but whatever. Hope you guys like it. ^.^**

* * *

_"Traitor."_

Matthew's heart stopped.

"...W-what?"

"He's one of _them._" Alfred spat "He's the enemy. And if you choose him over us, that makes you a traitor."

"I'm not choosing him over you-"

"But you want to stay here with him."

"...Yes."

"Then you're a traitor." Alfred conceded, standing up.

Matthew flinched, thinking Alfred was going to hit him, but the American just stood there. Matthew could see the anger and rage in his eyes clear as day, as well as the other emotions behind them. The betrayal, the hurt, the confusion. It broke his heart.

He was so selfish. He was hurting his brother. Maybe... maybe it would just be easier to forget about the whole thing, to just apologise and go back with his family.

But... no. He wouldn't. He loved Gilbert. He wanted to stay with him. For once, he was going to think about what he wanted. He wasn't backing down, not this time.

"I am not a traitor! I haven't told him anything, any state secrets or battle plans or anything, not even when he was torturing me!" He defended.

"H-he... He tortured you?" Alfred asked in a low voice.

"He tortured you?" Another voice asked with thinly veiled anger.

Matthew looked up to see Lars standing in the doorway, a hard look on his face.

"Oh, Lars! Well, I, um-" Matthew stuttered, looking from Lars to Alfred nervously. He hadn't meant to say that... that was a mistake.

"No, I'll deal with that later." Lars leveled his stare at Alfred. "Matthew is not a traitor. He merely wants to be with the one he loves."

Matthew blinked. Apparently Lars had been listening for longer than he had thought.

"I don't care what their connection is. That man is the enemy, and if Matthew chooses to stay with him, the man who tortured him because he is our _enemy, _instead of coming home with us, then he is a traitor, and a stupid one." Alfred held, staring at his brother.

Lars' face hardened even more. "Alright. Believe what you want. If you really feel that way, then this conversation is _over_. There is nothing more for you to say."

"Yeah," Added a voice they all turned around to see Miguel, who had apparently been listening long enough to know what was going on, walking into the room. He stepped in front of Alfred and glared at him menacingly. "Get out and leave him the fuck alone."

Alfred glared back at him for a second before glancing at Matthew momentarily. Then he looked away, face unreadable, and stormed out of the room.

They all stared after him for a second before Miguel broke the silence. "That bastard." He muttered angrily.

Then Lars turned back to Matthew, whose eyes were just welling with barely visible tears.

Lars had been meaning to talk to him about what he had said, but it seemed it was not the time.

END OF FLASHBACK

* * *

"You-" Arthur began angrily, but he was quieted by Francis.

"Shhh, not yet. Wait a minute, let them have their moment."

"Oh, mein leibling," Gilbert said, walking forward to hug the Canadian. "That bastard." He growled angrily as his Birdie rested his head on the Prussian's shoulder. "Es tut mir leid." He hugged Matthew tighter to him, rubbing his back and smoothing his hair.

They remained like that for a while with Arthur, Lars, and Miguel averting their eyes rather awkwardly.

Then they broke apart, and Arthur was about to admonish Gilbert again, only to be cut off a second time.

"I hate to interrupt, but-" He started.

"Va te faire foutre, enculé!" Francis cried, rushing at the Prussian and pushing him to the ground. "You tortured mon petit Matthieu?! You hurt him?! What did you do to him?!" The Frenchman demanded, standing over Gilbert.

Both Matthew and Arthur looked on, bewildered and slightly shocked, as Francis exhibited surprising aggression. Gilbert was sprawled on the ground, staring up at his friend as well, a look of moderate astonishment on his face. "Woah, Francis-"

"What did you do to Matthieu?" The blonde asked angrily.

"Nothing, bro, I-"

"_What did you do?!"_

Mathew, having snapped out of his surprise, hurried forward. "Non, non, Francis, it's okay, really. He didn't really do much, I'm fine."

Francis glared at the Canadian. "Matthieu..." He trailed off warningly.

Matthew couldn't lie to his older brother figure, who had been so great to him over the years. "It was nothing really, he, ah, he just kind of... broke a few of my fingers-"

Francis growled ("But I'm fine now, really!" Matthew added uselessly) and looked back down at Gilbert, who was still on the ground. Then he kicked him in the face.

Gilbert most certainly did not scream like a little girl.

"If you _ever_ hurt mon petit Matthieu again, I swear you will regret it." He vowed in a low voice.

"A-alright, Francis, I got it. I swear I won't. I'm not going to hurt mein Birdie." Gilbert promised.

Francis sniffed. "Good." He stepped carefully over Gilbert and went back to stand next to Arthur. Matthew hurried over to the albino and helped him up as Arthur finally got his chance to speak.

"Well, er, I see Francis has taken care of that, so I'll just add that if you do ever hurt my little brother again, you won't be alive to regret it for much longer." Arthur warned, his voice growing darker. Then, turning to Matthew, "Don't worry, lad, I'm sure Alfred's just confused. He doesn't mean it. I'll talk to him."

"Alright..." Matthew replied uncertainly.

"And I want you to know that, uh, we... support you 100 percent." Arthur continued, examining the ground awkwardly.

"Really?" Matthew asked hesitantly.

"Yes, of course." Arthur replied.

"Of course, mon cher! How could we stand in the way of l'amour? As long as you are happy and well, we approve.

"Oh, thank you!" Matthew cried, a smile spreading across his face as he ran to hug his brothers. He had been so afraid that they would reject him as well. He was glad that at least some of his family still accepted him.

"So, ah, we'll just go back to the hotel then, I'm sure we've all had enough excitement for one day. We'll come back and sort everything out tomorrow." Francis hugged Matthew, and then Gilbert and said his goodbyes, and then took Arthur's arm.

"We'll be in the van." Arthur directed at Miguel and Lars, and they nodded. Then the pair left the room and started off down the hall. Francis's voice could be heard from the hallway. "You know mon cher, I don't think I have had quite enough excitement for today... would you like to help me fix that once we are alone?"

They heard a smacking sound, then "Don't say that here, you bloody Frog!"

Miguel and Lars stepped into the room.

"Thank you guys." Matthew said quietly. "So much."

"Of course." Miguel said. "We couldn't just let the bastard do that to you."

"Still, " He insisted, "Thank you." The Canadian stepped forward and hugged them both, until Gilbert pointedly cleared his throat.

"I can hug who I want to, Gilbert." Matthew chided amusedly, pulling away from his friends after a bit.

"Come on," He said to them. "I'll show you to the door."

"I'll be along in a minute, okay?" Lars said.

"Oh, okay, Miguel and I will be in the sitting room then." Matthew and Miguel exited the room, leaving Lars and Gilbert alone.

"...He really loves you, I can tell." Lars murmured.

"Yeah?" Gilbert asked.

"Yeah... He's a good kid. He seems really happy here, there's something in his eyes... something I've never seen in him before. And he's more confident now, too. He's changed in the weeks since he's left."

"Really? He did seem meek and quiet in the beginning, but I thought that was partially just circumstances."

"No, he was always like that, more or less. More around his brothers a lot of the time, less with Miguel and I. It wasn't really their fault, they're just very loud and dramatic, and all of their chaos tended to make Matthew invisible when he tried to do anything.

"But I can tell that he loves you, and you seem to be good for him. So take care of him. He's amazing."

"Yeah, I know." Gilbert smiled. "I will."

Then all of a sudden Gilbert found himself pressed up against the wall, Lars' hand clutching his shirt and a fist in his face.

"I care about the kid, okay? So just keep in mind, if you ever hurt him, Francis won't be the only one after you." The Dutchman said calmly.

"I already said I won't, okay? I swear I won't hurt him ever again." Gilbert said irritably.

Lars eased up, seemingly satisfied with the Prussian's answer.

"Good. Just hope that you never forget."

"I won't." Gilbert answered shortly, having had enough. He pushed Lars away from him and the Dutchman stepped back.

"Glad we had a chance to have this pleasant talk." He declared. "Oh, and Miguel told me to tell you that in the event that you did hurt him, he'd send the Cuban mafia after you." Then he walked off, out of the room.

"Mein Gott..." Gilbert muttered.

* * *

"Hey, where did Antonio go...? I haven't seen him for a while." Gilbert asked his brother.

"I don't know, I haven't seen him. I haven't seen Lovino either, now that I think about it."

"He's not with Feli?"

"Not right now, no. Feli's in the kitchen making pasta with Matthew, but Lovino's not there. Do you think they're..."

"Yep."

"Again?"

"Yep."

* * *

"Are you okay?" Matthew asked Gilbert, snapping him out of his reverie. "You're being oddly quiet."

"Hm? Oh, yeah, just thinking...Are you okay?" The Prussian returned.

"Oh, yeah, I suppose... I'll be fine. What were you thinking about?" Gilbert did, in fact, notice the blond's attempt to chance the subject, but decided to let it go. Matthew could talk when he was ready.

"I was just thinking how all your family and friends seem to hate me." He said, both irritated and amused.

"They don't hate you! They're just not used to me having any new friends or a boyfriend or anything. They're just a bit surprised. They'll chill out soon." The Canadian said, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself more than the other male.

Gilbert pressed his lips to Matthew's forehead. "Right, of course they will, Birdie. You'll see."

* * *

**Va te faire foutre, enculé - Fuck you, bastard**

**Yeah, okay, so the Cuban mafia, in case anyone was curious, was a thing, and is now less of a thing, but it's a big thing in this universe. If you're any more curious, Google it. If you're any more curious about it's part in my fic, you'll find out in the sequel.**

**So yeah, I hope you guys liked that. Was it obvious that I was trying (and probably failing) to hint at M-rated things? Yeah, I was trying, but my innocent mind wouldn't let me. Next time I'll ask my friends to help me with that. Sorry. But still no actual M-rated things. Sorry for that as well. I'm not sure I'm making sense anymore, I'm going to go to bed.**

**Is anyone going to A-Kon this year? I'm going (as punk!Prussia, I might add), and I really want to meet people. So if any of you guys are going, PM me or something? Awesome.**

**~Potter-chan**


	23. Chapter 23

**Okay, you can all kill me now. I am a terrible person. Someone needs to punch me in the face. I am horrible. I cannot believe I haven't updated this for two months. But at least I didn't completely abandon it, and so here's the last chapter, and the sequel's in the works. So if you want the sequel, follow me I guess, and hopefully the first chapter will be up either tomorrow, if I keep writing so much, or like next week if I don't. **

* * *

Matthew woke in a tangle of soft sheets. Streams of sunlight were pouring through the window and bouncing off the bed, illuminating the room. The blond reached out towards the other side of the bed for his lover, but reached only air.

The Canadian blinked sleep out of his eyes and propped himself up on one elbow to look at Gilbert side of the bed, which was currently empty. Matthew sat up and pushed the covers off of him, then stood. He walked to the closed bedroom door and was about to open it when he heard voices on the other side. He stopped and pressed his left ear against the door.

"You're sure they won't reconsider, Ludwig?" He heard Gilbert's voice ask.

"I told you East, I asked, but they said they wouldn't change their minds unless there was a legitimate reason. And unless you want me to tell them about the enemy assassin you're currently harbouring in our house, I don't think there's much we can do about it." Ludwig replied.

Gilbert sighed.

"Were you not prepared for this?" Ludwig asked. "Did you not think they would send you back out?"

"I knew they would. It was inevitable. I just didn't think it would be so soon. What if he hates me for it, West? For fighting against his country?"

"I... don't know, East. But I think that, if he really... loves you, he will accept that you are doing what you must."

"Wow, Luddy, you really do have feelings!"

"Shut up, Gilbert."

"Thanks, West."

There was the sound of footsteps nearing the door, and Matthew jerked away from it and onto the bed just as the door opened.

Gilbert popped his head in, and seeing Matthew awake, gave him a dazzling grin. "Guten morgen, Birdie!"

"You're going back out?"

The albino's smile faded a little. "You heard that, huh?"

Matthew nodded. Gilbert stepped into the room and sat down on the bed next to the blond.

"Yeah, the Prussian government and the German government have decided they want me back out in the field. Are... are you okay with that? I mean, I don't really want to go, but I have to and if I don't it'll raise suspicion and they might find you and if they find you and they figure out who you are that would be bad for all of us and I don't want you to get hurt and-"

"Gilbert."

"...yeah?"

"It's alright, I understand."

The Prussian blinked. "You do?"

Matthew kissed Gilbert's nose and wrapped his arms around the albino in a hug. "Yeah. You're the general, they need you. It's fine."

"It doesn't bother you that I'll be fighting your countrymen?

"It's alright, Gilbert, calm down. That's just how war is."

"Oh, wait!" Gilbert exclaimed, brightening a bit, "Ludwig said they're sending me to the Russian front. So I'll probably only be fighting the Russians and Chinese. Hopefully not much contact with your side."

"Well, that's great. So it'll be fine. Just be careful, okay Gil? Don't let any more assassins into your tent."

"You're the only assassins that's ever gotten that close."

"Well, don't I feel special."

"You should." Gilbert whispered, leaning forward to kiss the blond. "You're amazing."

"Shut up, Gil." Matthew said, blushing.

"Aw, come on Birdie, it's true." The albino said, grinning.

"Whatever. I'm going to go make some pancakes." The blond said, standing up and walking out of the room.

* * *

"So you guys are leaving?" Matthew asked, a bit sadly.

"Sorry, lad, but it's not wise for us, especially me, to be in this particular country for too long. We need to be getting back." Arthur said.

"We'll miss you!" Francis cried. "Promise you'll come visit when this stupid war is over?"

"Of course! All the time. Oh, I'm going to miss you so much!" Matthew said as he hugged his big brothers. "Um... where's..."

"He wouldn't come out of the van... But he will come to his senses, mon cher. Just give it some time. You know how he is, Matthieu, he always did need a bit more time to get things through that thick skull of his."

Matthew chuckled. "I suppose so.

Then Lars and Miguel said their goodbyes to Matthew, and Matthew and Gilbert saw them all out to their van. As they said their last goodbyes, Matthew saw his brother's face through the window, expression pensive.

* * *

The night sky was black, the stars twinkled like diamonds scattered over it.

The Prussian and the Canadian lay side by side on the soft green grass, ignoring the beauty of the sky in favor of each other as they embraced. Gilbert placed gentle butterfly kisses on Matthew's face and Matthew reached over to tangle his fingers in the other's silver hair as their lips met.

Matthew sighed.

"What is it?" Gilbert asked quietly.

"Just thinking."

"About what?"

"I don't know. Everything. What'll happen to us."

"Well, I may not know what'll happen to us," Gilbert murmured, "But I know that whatever it is, we'll be able to handle it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

They kissed again, and then they simply lay there, staring up at the big wide sky.

The general and the assassin, against all odds.

* * *

**Okay, I really want to thank all you guys for sticking with me and this story through it all, even the awkward parts because everything I do has awkward parts... And all the favorites and follows and reviews and everything, you guys are amazing and I love you. **

**If any of you guys want to talk to me or anything, my tumblr is gredandforgeandharrypotter . tumblr . com. Please talk to me, I'm shy as fuck but I want to make friends. Yes, I'm aware that's a bad combination.**

**Thank you all so much.**

**~Potter-chan**


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